Bamboozled at the bookstore

Have you ever taken it up the rear? No? Read on, you may reconsider.

I rode my bicycle to the bookstore to find something to help me improve my grammar and writing. After a while I decided it was time for some coffee. Many bookstores have an area to by coffee and look over your selections and this store, the largest in Portland, was not to be an exception. However, I was unaware that a cruel heist was about to be put upon me by the coffee merchant who resided there. First, I was charged a dollar and fifty cents for a ‘short’ coffee, I believe that to be fifty percent higher than the same size coffee from the same store in another location. Before I could entertain any thought about the pricing, they winded me with the remainder of their one-two punch. While the man who took my order poured my over priced java, a young lady whose particular features are my kind of Kryptonite went for the money.

Let me describe this coquettish barrister turned booster. Her hair was jet black and close cropped, and her skin was a luminous and somewhat pearlescent white. Her youthful feminine form came wrapped in a black dress, a delicate and snug Lycra-cotton mix if I’m not mistaken. Her dark eyes first looked into mine then looked away, as a shy smile colored like blood blooming from a fresh cut appeared on her face.

Exorbitant prices are one thing, but sending out one such as this to conclude their shakedown is hitting below the belt.

Bastards!

Any thoughts of grumbling or fuming evaporated while in the presence of this raven haired nymph and in a sedate manner, I returned to my book search. In a while I remembered I could get a refill. Other stores in this chain give the first refill for free, so I reasoned, “The pirates at this shop probably added that fifty cents to cover the refill. I won’t let them get away with it.” I was convinced I would get what I deserved; the proper amount of coffee for the price. Checkmate!

The refill was an extra fifty cents.

Fuckers!