Agatha's Monday (Short)

Agatha Parlane stumbled into the Bean & Brew drunk off her ass at 9:18am on Monday morning. Her millennial pink tracksuit clashed terribly with the lime green Crocs she’d slipped on as she rushed out the door at 8:07am, worried she wouldn’t make it to work on time. Halfway to her car, she had remembered that she’d retired 20 years ago and didn’t need to be anywhere at anytime anymore. So she’d grabbed a bottle of rum from her cupboard and driven to the park downtown to enjoy the cool, foggy fall morning. 

She had spent almost an hour just sitting on a bench, sipping out of her bottle in a brown paper bag, and watching dogs chase down frisbees and children run around with those fake guns that shot strange foam bullets. She’d finished a little more than half the bottle when one of those fake bullets struck her in the shin. The little boy who’d fired the damn thing had come over, plucked it off the ground, and run away before Agatha even had a chance to frown at him. Grumbling about miserable little brats and their violent toys, she had shoved her brown paper bag into her purse and walked down the street to the Bean & Brew for her morning cup of coffee.

Now, Agatha stood unsteadily in the lobby of the coffee shop and stared at the menu, trying to figure out which of the numerous items was a plain ol’ cup of joe. She was so confused by the strange menu that she didn’t notice another elderly woman get in line behind her and smile brightly at the phrase “Sweet Bitch” on the back of her tracksuit.

“Good morning, Agatha!”

Agatha swayed and squinted at the menu for another few moments before recognizing her name. She turned to face the short, perfectly put together woman behind her. At almost 90, she still did her makeup every day and always wore a matching set of jewelry whenever she went out. Agatha snorted and forced a half-assed smile on her face. “Morning, Pearl.”

“It’s such a beautiful day, isn’t it? The fog broke and the sun is out, finally. I’m sad I won’t be able to enjoy it, though. I’ve been called in as a replacement for the Silver Foxes bowling team this afternoon. June caught a nasty cold and can’t make it. Such a shame, isn’t it?” 

“Sure,” Agatha said, not entirely certain what Pearl was talking about. She just wanted a cup of coffee.

Pearl nodded her head solemnly. “It’s just a real shame. I hope she gets better soon. Although, I’m sure the team will do fine with me as the replacement. I bowl regularly at the country club with my husband. It’s an easy weekend activity for us. I belong to a summer league, too, with a couple of old guys. Those old guys are younger than me, but they seem old, you know?” Pearl arched her perfectly plucked gray brow and waited for Agatha to respond.

Agatha stared at Pearl, wondering what she’d done to deserve this on her fine, lazy Monday morning. 

The barista coughed and said, “Next in line, please.” 

Agatha turned to the barista, hiccuped once, and swiveled her head back to face Pearl. “Pearl, I don’t give a damn. And frankly, no one else does, either.” With that, she turned and stepped toward the counter. “Can I just get a plain cup of coffee?” she asked the barista.

“Of course, ma’am. Small, medium, or large?”

“Large.”

“That’ll be $3.50.”

Agatha paid for her cup of coffee and took a drink immediately, wanting to make some room for more of her rum. She ignored the burn on her tongue and headed toward the exit. Agatha looked back as she opened the door. Pearl was still standing where she’d left her, looking like she’d just been told she was going to die next week. The barista was waving her hand, trying to get her attention. She eventually gave up and motioned the man behind Pearl to step up to the counter. Agatha snorted. Served the bitch right for ruining her damn morning.