Coffee Shop Curmudgeon

Hoover stood in line at the coffee shop and looked over the menu board. "Frappa Crappa..." he mumbled.." what happened to just plain coffee? Who the @%$! thought of putting oatmilk in anything? I mean, once it existed, people were gonna mix it in, but why bother to MILK an oat in the first place? Who thought of oatmilk at all? Do oats lactate? Do almonds? Do freaking soybeans?!? Its freaking oatJUICE! What's next? Skittle Latte?"

He waved the two millenials who were standing behind him in line to go ahead of him. But in truth he needed a minute to pull himself together. "Ahh, I'm still making up my mind, you kids go ahead. I'm still trying to decide between a coffee based drink or a coffee based beverage.."

"Thanks, dude, " one of them said. "Say, aren't they both the same thing? "

"What you mean?"

"Well, a coffee drink or a coffee beverage? What's the difference?"

"Oh, I see," Hoover replied. " I guess it depends on how much you can spend." Hoover was just shining them on but they seemed satisfied with his answer.

It was almost Hoover's turn. The two young people who he had sent ahead in line were ALMOST done ordering their unneccesarily complicated SOY/CHAI/DOUBLE PUMP/IPECAK/SMOOTHIE It was almost as if they were trying to impress each other. People were trying to not pay attention to his rumblings. More out of politeness than an actual fear. It wasn't as if people were backing away slowly. The people in CafeJolt knew him, though. He had been coming here for years. He would come in every afternoon, order a black coffee with a "whisper of cinnamon, not a full throated shout" ( both he and Shelly the barista were huge Frasier fans and loved sharing this inside joke) and ask for some tap water for his golden lab Isaac, who was waiting patiently outside.

He hadn't asked for water since the dog had passed a few months ago...a short battle after a seizure. Hoover had known it was a kindness to let Isaac go, but still, he had been devastated. It had been a gut punch for Hoover and he was finding it more and more difficult to get back into his routine. Or be nice to people. Or believe in anything he had enjoyed about life. Probably the only part of his old life he was hanging on to was his daily walk to get coffee. Part of him felt like he and Isaac would still have their daily chats. And if he walked past a McDonalds wrapper on the ground he would remember an instance of having to wrestle the Big mac wrapper out of Isaac's snout. "No, boy! You'll choke on the paper. Come on, Isaac. I'll give you a treat when we get home. "

Hoover could have sworn sometimes that Isaac had thought the whole process through, all in a clever ruse to get a Beggin Strip before suppertime. Was the dog smarter than he was? Hoover wouldn't have been surprised.

It was now Hoover's turn and Shelley greeted him. She had his drink ready for him. "Hi, Hoovs. Nice day out. I'm glad to see you. Can you do me a favor? Meet me back here at 7 pm when my shift ends? I need to show you something. It won't take too much of your time. I just need your opinion about something. "

"Huh? Yeah, I guess. Ok. " Hoover felt like he was going through the motions, walking through molasses.

"Ok, thanks Hoover. I appreciate it. I have a problem I think only you can help me with. I'll owe you a free coffee.

Hoover took his drink and left the shop. Sipping as he walked home, he teared up as he followed the path he and Isaac had always followed together...the empty lot, the supermarket, the strip mall that had the bbq joint that Guy Fieri had visited...." I don't know how much longer I can do this. Isn't it supposed to get easier as grief moves along? I just cant do this anymore. I want to be with Isaac. "

Hoover arrived home and turned on the tv. It was a Matlock rerun. Or Magyver. Or Maverick. Or Captain Kangaroo. Or any of the shows he had once seen. Well, they all were reruns but he hadn't seen this one. Or didn't think he had. He ate a ham and cheese on toast, with mustard and tomato, while he watched the show. By the time the show was over, it was time to head back to CafeJolt. He had promised Shelley. She was a sweet kid. She had tried her best to bring Hoover back around. She had been in tears when he had told her about Isaac's death. She made sure to let Stanley know if he wanted to talk she was there to listen, even though he had rarely talked about Isaac. He just couldn't.

Hoover rounded the corner to the front of CafeJolt and saw Shelly standing outside of her car. "Hey, Hoovs! Thanks for meeting me back here. I really need your help with something. Close your eyes."

"What the #$@! Shel. I ain't got time for this. $8^&@!"

"Aw come on, Stanley ( Hoover's first name.) Indulge me."

"^*$%. Ok" Shelly knew him well enough to know that calling him by his first name was sort of their private signal that he needed to reign it in.

As Hoover stood there with his eyes closed he could hear Shelly open her car and lift something out and place it on the ground. "Ok, Hoover, open 'em up."

Stanley Hoover opened his eyes and on the ground next to Shelly's Impala was a cardboard box. Inside the box what Hoover saw made his heart melt.

10 minutes later Hoover was walking home with his new Yorkie puppy Jethrine, feeling as if he had just woken up. He started to cry with joy when Jethrine stopped to sniff a Big Mac wrapper.