Modeled after Giovanni Boccaccio's classic from the 14th Century, this collection similarly brought 100+ short stories to Wattpad readers. The original's premise was simple: ten individuals entertained themselves over a span of ten days by telling a...
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It was my Friday shift at Linda's Diner, one of those hellish days, halfway through August.
Waiting tables didn't pay much, but I got by on tips. I could have finished school but Dad died and suddenly, I was alone in the world and stuck with this job in the middle of nowhere.
"Lilly... come here for a second," the guy at table four said. I knew every table in the diner by number, which was no big thing since there were only six of them.
Roy Bakersfield. The guy came in every morning, ordered three cups of coffee, and later complained about it every single time.
I hated his guts.
"Yeah, I'm coming," you sicko bastard. "What is it, Roy?"
The old man pursed his quivering lips.
"Lilly, this coffee tastes awful! It's so bad, it makes me sick! Mayhap, it's rotten... or mayhap, it'sburnt!"
"It's the same coffee we've always served here, Roy. The one we buy from your shop in town."
"Nuh-uh, that's impossible sweetie pie. See, I would never sell bad coffee."
"It's not impossible," you miserable bastard! "Yours is the only shop in town that sells coffee."
My blood boiled. In a moment's fury, my fingers slipped through his hair and pulled so hard that I banged the guy's head against the table twice before the coffee spilled and burned his eyes.
He cried a squeamish scream and his freakin' voice was so damn high-pitched that even Linda, my boss, peeked out of the kitchen and saw what happened...
"Lilly?"
"Lilly, did you hear me?"
I blinked.
The voice came from Roy. A very healthy Roy, holding an empty mug in his left hand, shaking it in the air.
Great, Lilly. You're hallucinating. This job is driving you mad.
"I'm telling you, this is not Bakersfield's coffee! You're trying to trick me, missy! But let me tell you one thing...." His voice faded in the distance. I couldn't care less what he said. An announcement on the TV screen caught my attention.
"They call it Woodstock, and it's here. This weekend, thousands of hippies travel to San Francisco to the greatest music festival of all time. So, if you're tired of the same old routine, it's time you leave everything behind and go check it out!"
"Woodstock..." I mused.
"... can't even do your job well!" Roy continued. "This coffee—"
