The Laurens Café

On Strike

John
From the moment my alarm went off I could tell something was wrong. I couldn't hear Angelica yelling about anything or Peggy singing to herself as she whipped up batch after batch of batter for the actually fresh-baked muffins our café offers. As I rolled out of bed and looked down the hall, I didn't spot cheerful Eliza hovering at the landing with a muffin for me like she usually did.
I got dressed quickly, somehow knowing none of them were in the café on the first floor of our four-story building. I brushed my teeth and slid down the railing of the first two flights of stairs, stopping once I got to the kitchen (can't have a repeat of the Great Pound Cake Tragedy of '03) and was stopped by a cook named Maria. "Eliza told me to give this to you." She said, holding out a chocolate-chip muffin.
I accepted the muffin with a grin and jogged down the last flight of stairs, throwing a "thank you" over my shoulder.
My father was waiting as I climbed down the last flight of stairs, biting into my muffin. "Where have you been, John?" He demanded exasperatedly, running a hand through his curly brown hair.
I swallowed. "Um...asleep? Did you need me for something?" I asked, starting to get a bit nervous.
He sighed. "Apparently. The sisters have gone on strike. They want higher wages and better benefits and all that fun stuff." I took another bite of my muffin, starting to get slightly concerned. "So what are we going to do? Are we closing for today?"
My dad shook his head. "You can manage without them, so we'll just have you go solo today." I groaned as I tried to savor the final bite of what would most likely be my last bit of food for a very long time.
It's going to be an incredibly tough day.

The doors opened at precisely 9:00 AM, and as the clock changes to 9:02, my two best friends in the world staggered through the door. The stockier of the two collapsed against the countertop, staring up at me with dull eyes. "Damn, Herc, you look like hell." I snickered while Hercules Mulligan stared up at me blankly and the taller of the pair rolled his bloodshot brown eyes, smoothing his afro into a ponytail. "Ahh, quiet, mon ami. Just do your job and fix us our usual."
"Long night, Lafayette?" I taunted as I whipped up a French vanilla latte and a triple shot of espresso. Lafayette dragged Hercules off the counter to receive the drinks. "Ask zis one." He responded in his thick accent.
Hercules put his hand on his head. "Sorority girls." He moaned. "Beautifully ruthless. How could I say no to a party with them?" I slide him his espresso and Lafayette his latte. "French for the Frenchie." I joked.
As they sipped their drinks, I leaned my head on my hand. "So, sorority girls, huh?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.
Hercules downed his espresso. "I wish, man. But nah, nothing happened."
"Nothing except too many shots of cherry vodka and a bit of dancing on zee tables." Lafayette giggled.
I turned away as the bell on the door chimed. "I'd love to talk more, but it seems I have a customer." I told my friends, turning away to the counter.
I guess you could say those were the last moments of my normal life.