#sydneyquin

“ look, asshole --- ”   oh, here we go.  and it’s certainly not out of the ordinary where julia’s customer service standard is concerned.  one hand finds her hip, the other gestures wildly.   “ how the fuck do you know i gave you the wrong coffee? ”   she did, of course.  but that doesn’t stop her.   “ what can you taste the caffeine or somethin’? gimme a fuckin’ break, buddy. ”  julia notes the diner door swinging open behind her, but doesn’t abandon her campaign just yet.  “ if i say it’s decaf, it’s fuckin’ decaf --- alright? and if it’s not, then ... well, shit! maybe you’re wife’ll come in and thank me that you’re not falling asleep on top of her tonight --- huh? ”   the man provides little rebuttal to that, naturally.  but the customer is a regular who makes a habit of staring at her ass, so julia feels well within her god-given rights.  the figure beside her finally takes shape, as the fog of war clears.  “ siddy! what are you doin’, baby? get the fuck over here! ”   her venom-slicked tone makes a sudden return to sweetness:  like the flick of a switch.  “ c’mon, lemme clear you a table. away from this fuckin’ guy, he’s got a stick up his ass. how are ya, doll? ”