Banshee and the Barista

Banshees rarely had to wait in line.

“No, please, after you,” said the woman ahead of Ariel. “I’m still deciding.”

Human superstition made her life harder in a lot of ways, but here was one way it made it easier. She stepped up to the counter, and the newest barista, eyes focused on the register, asked for her order.

It was always the newest one who got stuck with her. This one was a tall, attractive young man who was trying, and only somewhat succeeding, in growing a beard. His name tag read Waldo.

“How are the cookies today?” she asked.

Waldo shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know. Same as always.”

“They’re not always the same,” said Ariel. “I know they come from the same factory somewhere, but sometimes, something goes wrong in the process or they get delayed or whatever.”

“Well, they’re always wrapped in plastic, so I don’t know how we’d know if they were good or not?”… Read the rest “Banshee and the Barista”