Today at work some dudebro tried to quiz me about how to make a drink. At Starbucks. I am a fully qualified barista. At Starbucks. In fact I’m so qualified that I train OTHER people to be qualified baristas. And this guy, this neckbeard asshole, wearing a walking dead t-shirt has the AUDACITY to come into my store, my dojo, order a ‘tuxedo mocha’ and ask me to tell him ‘how i think it’s made’. And then, AND THEN, has the nerve to tell me that he’s, and I quote, ‘surprised you know what it is, most baristas don’t know the secret menu’ !!!???!!!!!? Like, listen here Ezekiel, you come into my cafe, my coffee kingdom, and insult my expansive coffee knowledge because you think no one knows what your basic ass half white mocha half regular mocha princess drink is? Like I’m some fake gamer girl but with coffee??? Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.
Fakir grumbled, pushing through the mass of people while struggling to keep a close watch on the tiny girl weaving in and out between strangers’ legs.
When he agreed to babysit his little cousin for the day, he didn’t know it entailed trailing after her for hours on end in a crowded aquarium full of screaming children and (understandably) grumpy parents. And he’d forgotten just how fast Uzura was despite her stubby legs.
Granted, the exhibits were impressive, and he’d heard good things about the treatment of this aquarium’s marine life. Uzura was particularly enraptured by the sights of iridescent jellyfish, petting the stingrays, and making silly faces at grinning eels. And maybe he found it a little pleasant, seeing the ever-curious girl in wide-eyed astonishment and delight. He even snapped a few pictures on his phone to show to her mother later.
But the hours wore on, he was getting hungry and cranky, and she ate way too many Swedish fish to slow down now.
“Hurry up, Fakir, hurry up!” she giggled, sprinting even faster.
He grit his teeth. "‘Scuse me,“ he grunted, weaving (or shoving, whatever) past an equally-displeased gentleman with a pamphlet in his hands, "Sorry, just have to—dammit. Uzura, hold on! Don’t get yourself lost!”
“But we’ll be late for the show!”
What, there was a show, now? What about food?!
It was evident that she wouldn’t listen, so he focused entirely on just catching up through the crowds, ignoring the first strings of mystifying music that signaled the start of whatever “show” Uzura was so intent on seeing.
She must’ve darted and crawled her way through, because reaching the end of the room was a nightmare for his tall stature. He might’ve taken the time to appreciate the large wall of glass in front of him (a vast tank full of a whole spectrum of colors in the form of fish, coral, and other marine life, and hey, he might’ve spotted a few stingrays in the corners of his eyes), if not for the fact that he’d almost completely lost sight of Uzura.
When he finally found her at the very front of the crowd, her little face was all but pressed against the glass.
Fakir forgot how to breathe when he looked up and saw her.