Friday, October 16, 2009


I was working at LPT the other morning and overheard this, and only this, from the middle aged, overly perfumed, highly laquored fingernails I was serving, "The last thing Dan had, before he died, was a Starbuck's pumpkin spiced latte." I found myself silently asking so many questions of two people whose existance, mere moments earlier, I was all too eager to forget. How did Dan die? Was it because of the latte? In spite of it? Did he die IN the Starbuck's? Was this last "meal" a good thing? I mean, was a Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte Dan's favorite drink in the world? When his tabby cat got into the bathroom trash and tried to eat used dental floss, could his wife bribe him by saying, "Oh Dan, honey, if you pull the floss out of the cat's ass, just this once, I'll go get you a Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte!" If faced with the question, "What would you do for a Klondike bar?", "Trade it for a Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte" would be a swap that he, literally, just couldn't stomach. Did Dan so revere the Starbuck's pumpkin spice latte that he entered into its consumption knowing it would cost him his life, and yet he made the ultimate sacrifice.

I needed a nap.