If someone pissed in your coffee, it wasn’t me


I have no idea what made him so grumpy, but boy was he grumpy. We both scanned shelves in the small aisle of size 8 women’s shoes, there’s no way he wore a size 8, so maybe that’s why he was grumpy. Could have been the poor selection, I don’t know. He huffed at me as he pushed past to seek out other things and other people to grumble about. I tried to smile at him, just a little smile though, I think the frown he returned may have been grumpy enough to cause some new frown lines on his weathered face.

Finding nothing that didn’t look like Lady Ga-Ga would go ga-ga over, I decided to call quits on my unsuccessful shopping adventure and popped in line to purchase a cold drink, unsuccessful shopping makes me thirsty. Grumpy-boots lined up behind me. I say behind out of technicality, he was way up in my personal space, mumbling under his breath about moving it along.

When the person in front of me took a step forward, grumpy-boots took one, even if I hadn’t yet. Annoyed, I turned to him and asked if someone had pissed in his coffee.

“Pissed what?” 

Pissed in your coffee. Did someone piss in your coffee this morning? Because it wasn’t me . . .”

Grumpy-pants took a step back, I thought maybe I should have kept my trap shut, but then – he started to chuckle. That chuckle turned into a cackle and that frown of his looked remarkably like a smile.

“I suppose they did.”

My turn to pay, as I walked away, I heard him tell the cashier to hurry it up, he had to get home and piss in someone’s coffee.

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