The cafe hummed with life. Machines produced wonderful smells as coffee brewed. People chatted quietly to each other, but laughed loudly. However, the kitchen seemed to be much different. Chefs worked tirelessly to produce baked goods, and small, fancy lunches. Coffee was another challenge all together, especially since no matter who the owner hired they seemed to have lied about their ability to make coffee on their resume.
"Did you order the beans?" Sam, the owner, asked the second in command.
Probably the most undeserving of a title, but Roger was two IQ points higher than the rest of the staff. Unfortunate, two more points still puts him in the negatives.
"Uh, yes and no," Roger replied. "Sam, there was a little...mix-up with the goods delivery service."
Sam placed his hands on his hips, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was a habit he wish he never developed, but unfortunately, that is the side effect of stress and angry outbursts.
"Lay it on me."
Out of all the responses he expected in his lifetime, Sam did not expect that. Roger was by no means telling Sam that he ordered baked beans from a coffee bean company. Somehow though, Sam felt it wasn't too surprising to think Roger would pull it off. Still, he wanted the full story.
"Baked beans in tomato sauce. They misunderstood the request for 'beans' and they..," Roger said quickly. Sam held up his hand and repeated 'shut it' till Sam eventually lowered his voice into low whisper that faded in his throat.
"They are a coffee supplier, Roger," Sam began. He smelt a lie in this story, because it involved somebody else being the idiot and not Roger. "Are you telling me a company that only produces coffee beans gave use baked beans in tomato sauce?"
"...yes," Roger answered softly, as if speaking low would help.
"You're lying to me, aren't you Roger?"
"Did you order from the wrong supplier?"
Sam held up his hand. Walking around the kitchen he soon found a strange, steel tool. He plucked from the table and handled it, passing it from hand-to-hand.
"This is something I received while studying," Sam explained. "We used it to strip beans from the dried pods once they were roasted. It was a method which made us better understand the bean and therefore decipher the best way for roasting and brewing the coffee. I want you to take it and not come back till you have three million coffee beans. If you don't have them in two hours I will take the spare I have, hunt you down and strip you of your beans."
"How...how will I roast the beans?" Roger asked. Sam shrugged.
"I'm sure you will think of something."
With that, Roger took the steel tool tentatively and proceeded to leave the building. Roger would go to the forest, but being mentally challenged, would end up in the camping section of a department store in Utah. He wouldn't be found until two months later, huddled in a fetal position in a small tent, surrounded by a hundred mangled packets of food he struggled to open.
"Right, and how are those cakes coming along, Lucy?" Sam asked cracking his knuckles menacingly.
"Almost done the mix, sir, just need more cocoa powder," Lucy said holding up a packet Sam didn't recognize.
"Bring that here, Lucy," Sam ordered, holding a hand out for the packet. At first Lucy didn't move from the mixing bowl, she was scared of Sam. Still, she broke and handed him the packet, wondering what could be wrong.
Sam read the packet and stared at Lucy. Holding up a finger to signal a moment of peace. Sam walked over to the mixing bowl, carried it over to the small rec table in the corner. He grabbed a spoon and threw it into the bowl.
"Eat it," Sam told Lucy.
While Lucy shuffled slowly towards the bowl, Sam threw the empty packet of gravy mix into the bin.
"Anyone else have something to say for themselves?" Sam asked on the edge.
Nobody said anything, so Sam took it as his time to take a break. He spun on the spot, breathing out fire.
"Right, if anyone needs me I am going to weep over the insanity that is...this,' Sam gestured at everything around him.
Sam left through the backdoor into the alley. Once outside he reached into his pocket and withdrew several items. First, a pair of earphones that he plugged into his ears and let the loud music blast into his ear drums. Next, a cigarette. A calming item he had been using since he opened the cafe. The funny thing is it was the previous owner who handed him the pack when he made his final payment, which was off because Sam never smoked.
Sam was completely oblivious to the yells from inside, the customers fleeing the cafe in fear, the sirens closing in on the building. A fire had broken loose and tore into the cafe. Everyone got out quickly enough and watched the building crumble in orange light. The firemen wouldn't be able to find a logical explanation for what happened, but the employees would explain what they did that day that caused it all.
Sam of course smelled the smoke believing it came from the cigarette. Tt wasn't until he looked down the alley to the streets, and saw everybody was staring at the cafe. He nodded to himself and decided to walk home without taking one look at the cafe.
The flames licked close to him, but he ignored the heat and turned away from the cafe as soon as possible. He took a moment to accept what once was his cafe slowly crumbling behind him and for the first time since opening the place he smiled.
Sam would rather not learn that the cleaner used alcohol to get the strange stains out of the floors and walls and that another employee created a spark big enough while he made the iced.
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