COFFEE

I have drank a few cups of coffee in all my years. The gamut ranged from coffee that could be used to patch pot holes in the street, to what I considered nectar of the gods. This liquid I consumed came from vending machines, home percolators, greasy spoon restaurants and 50 gallon urns in military mess halls.
Then a north west (known as Seattle) phenomenon hit the Chicago area. It was called Starbucks. Naturally it was opening on the north side of Chicago, better known as yuppie ville. If you want something to become trendy, get a fancy name, overcharge for it, and the yuppies will flock to it like sheep.
Fearing that over exposure to these mindless wonders, might rub off on me, I tend to stick to the south side of the city.
Then one day, I was assigned to a job on the dreaded part of town. After completing the assignment, I drove past one of those yuppie shrines. Curious, I ventured in, and was in an instant state of confusion as I tried to decipher the menu board.
The place went dead silent as I placed my order. Later I learned that I had committed a mortal sin, by just ordering a small plain black coffee.
Inside the squad car, I sat back, ready to enjoy this delicacy. I took a sip, and luckily for me it was summertime and the window was open as the hand holding the cup flew through the window dumping the toxic liquid that momentarily touched my lips.
The only good thing that came of my excursion, was that I was able to warn unwary souls of the pitfalls that might befall them if they enter through those doors.
Only yuppies could afford those prices or understand those menus. Grande Latte you can keep it, just give me a good cup of coffee.