Modern Hell

Oh, great. My worst nightmare. This is literally the worst way to start my morning. I have to walk into this hell hole. This place of doom. This never-ending pit of death and despair. In the 15 seconds it has taken me to walk from my car, I have counted five lost souls enter.

Damnit, here I go. My heart palpitates as I enter the realm of this modern-day hell. I come closer to actual death every time.

“Can I get a venti, decaf, soy latte with an extra shot and cream? Please and thanks” is what I heard standing two people back. I don’t even know what the hell that is. I hate it here. Good thing the line is moving quickly.

“Tall nonfat latte, 2% foam for Sara!”, yells one demon from off to the side.

“Of course! Great choice! That’ll be $16.45” responded the purple-haired demon stealing the money from us innocents. “What’s the name?”

Jesus. $17 for a drink.

“Hayley. H-A-Y-L-E-Y.”

Ok, Hayley. Do they charge more if they spell the name wrong?

“Next person,” yelled purple-hair demon. “Good morning. What can I get you?”

Not sure she would need to scream if the grinder in the back didn’t sound like a chainsaw doing the devil’s work. And what the hell is all that steam? Where is it coming from? The deepest depths of hell, probably.

“Yeah, good morning. Let me get a venti caramel macchiato, skim, extra shot, extra-hot, extra-whip, sugar-free. Also, I need 2 slices of banana bread and one roasted tomato & mozzarella panini.”

Wait, wait. Extra-hot? Is there a significant temperature jump from hot to extra-hot? Should have just ordered boiling water, Jesus. Banana bread sounds delicious, though. Real talk, that may have been the most pretentious order I have ever heard.

“Ok. That’ll be $37.86. What’s the name?”

I don’t understand what is so expensive about this place. Why, though? If your soul had a price, it’s $37.86.

“Kraig, with a K. I have a member card with all 25 punches.”

With a K, of course. Ooooh a member card. What’s this about?

“Oh, that’s great, sir. That will knock the total down to $27.86”

HA! Well, Kraig with a K, you’ve been coming here at least 25 days and just assuming you have ordered the same thing routinely, that is $37.86 a day for 25 days. Making a grand total of $946.50. I’m so glad you worked for that $10 off. Had to be worth it.

“Do you take Venmo?”

Really? Just use your debit card, Kraig.

“Of course. Just scan this QR code here.”

Jesus.

“Thank you, sir. Next!”

Oh great, it’s my turn. Act cordial. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sir. What can I get you?” snarled the beast.

I’ve been reading this text over and over. I better not screw this up.

“One second, my screen went black.” Of course, it did. “Just have to open it. Ok, she wants a tall pink… drink.” God, this is painful. It is literal torture. I feel all of my pride being forcefully ripped out of my chest.

“Venti, decaf, soy latte with an extra shot and cream for Hayley!”

“Ok, one pink drink for the gentleman. Great, sir. Is that all?” Are demons allowed to be sarcastic? Because I speak fluent sarcasm and understand exactly what she was really saying.

I had to be clear. “It’s not for me. I don’t drink this stuff.”

“I’m sure you don’t, sir.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t.”

“It’s good. You will love it. Will that be all?”

I sure hope so. “Yes.”

“Ok. That’s $11.30. What is the name?”

“John. With a J.” She didn’t laugh.

I sell a piece of my soul then position myself in corner of the inferno so that I can keep eyes on every individual here. There is a small group of women sitting together on the opposite side of the room cackling to each other. Succubi. Probably. I overhear them telling each other stories of spells and potions they have used on the weaker sex. Modern day dating. Sounds worse than this place.

“Venti caramel macchiato, skim, extra shot, extra-hot, extra-whip, sugar-free for Kraig.”

There is, presumably, a zombie, or some type of undead figure sitting all alone. He just sits at the small table, smashing away at his keyboard. Occasionally he leans back, puts his arms in the arm, and lets out a long, sad groan.

I am glad that I made it in when I did. The line of poor, helpless souls seem to have doubled.

After what felt like eternity, “I’ve got a pink drink for John! John, your pink drink is ready!”

“Really, dude? I feel like that was intentional. You have to do all that?”

“Just letting you know your order is ready, sir.” I grab my order from his pinchers. I notice big bold letters on the side of the drink. JON. They spelled John, J-O-N. You’ve got to be kidding me. I wasn't charged more, though.

I finally get to reenter the land of the living. Pink drink in my hand and all. I could not have made it back to my car any faster.

“Baby, I really hate you make me do that.” I say to my pregnant wife in the passenger seat as I pile in, handing over her pink drink.

“I know, honey. But you know my feet are killing me. Thank you!”

“How hard is it to keep a drive-through speaker box operational? I mean it’s 2023. I figure they can just remotely fix that kind of crap; you know? Jesus. You would not believe the devil worship that goes on in these places, baby. It’s out of control.”

“I know, John.”

“And the amount they charge for a drink!! This country started a revolution for far less than what these devils are getting away with.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And you know their membership card is only $10 off?! Can you believe that? You have to sell your soul for 25 days just to get $10 off? It’s so ridiculous.”

“Oh, shoot” she says.

“What babe …..wait, you don’t have one of those cards do you?”

She sips her drink and looks out the window.

“Babe! You don’t have one of those, right?!”