Flies and Frappucino
It having been gorgeous summer weather lately, coffee seems to have been replaced with frappucino for everyone apart from me- my caffeine addiction is not a fickle one, to be cast aside in summer for the cooler relation to coffee.
I was sat upstairs in Starbucks, revelling in the air conditioned cool- I’m a hot house plant, admittedly, but hot weather in central London isn’t, as such, the nicest thing- you end up slightly sticky with dirty feet.
Flip-flops might be a no no.
My companions, Becky of the beautiful red hair and Tom, her surprisingly nice boyfriend were sharing a frappucino, as new lovers and students are wont to do, when a fly landed on the table, investigating a spilled patch of strawberry flavoured ice (or so I assume, I’m not really cool enough to ‘get’ frappucino).
Becky poked at it with her straw, several times, before it went to bother somebody else.
Chatting away, I didn’t realise the fly had returned for our sugary leavings, and was crawling round the plastic lid of Becky’s drink- and was being poked, in a fairly determined manner with a straw, and was, by the time I noticed, missing a leg or two and looking rather piteous.
Well, what can you do, with someone who wears skull earrings and has a penchant for black nail polish?
I sobbed my little heart out and begged her to either leave it be or kill it.
OK, actually I told her to leave it the fuck alone or kill it on threat of having an icy cold drink poured down her lovely outfit, but that doesn’t make me sound quite the same
I was sat upstairs in Starbucks, revelling in the air conditioned cool- I’m a hot house plant, admittedly, but hot weather in central London isn’t, as such, the nicest thing- you end up slightly sticky with dirty feet.
Flip-flops might be a no no.
My companions, Becky of the beautiful red hair and Tom, her surprisingly nice boyfriend were sharing a frappucino, as new lovers and students are wont to do, when a fly landed on the table, investigating a spilled patch of strawberry flavoured ice (or so I assume, I’m not really cool enough to ‘get’ frappucino).
Becky poked at it with her straw, several times, before it went to bother somebody else.
Chatting away, I didn’t realise the fly had returned for our sugary leavings, and was crawling round the plastic lid of Becky’s drink- and was being poked, in a fairly determined manner with a straw, and was, by the time I noticed, missing a leg or two and looking rather piteous.
Well, what can you do, with someone who wears skull earrings and has a penchant for black nail polish?
I sobbed my little heart out and begged her to either leave it be or kill it.
OK, actually I told her to leave it the fuck alone or kill it on threat of having an icy cold drink poured down her lovely outfit, but that doesn’t make me sound quite the same
posted by Imogen @ 6:24 am
2 Comments:
At 16 June, 2006 12:53 ,
Snooze said...
I like your concern for the poor little fly. I agree - no need to torture the thing.
At 16 June, 2006 16:19 ,
Clarissa said...
No one who knows me will go to Starbucks with me. I am a huge addict of coffee and know well (too well) exactly what I want - which results in a most embarrassing order for any hapless amigos who might be with me. Fraps are tastey but they aren't a substitute! x, e
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