bernard
League Member
Café Conversation // A Side
“Well, there’s slitting your wrists...drinking poison... and...hanging yourself. Have I already mentioned slitting your wrists?” Cleaver O’Connor asked. His huge, green eyes looked up from the cafe countertop and in to the eyes of an older woman. Betty was her name, by the looks of her nametag.
“I think you did, hon’ ” She responded with a preoccupied southern drawl. She put a pencil behind her ear and walked back to the kitchen counter, where a pile of steaming plates of breakfast were waiting to be served.
“I guess no matter how you slice it, no pun intended, it still hurts.” he remarked with feigned pity in his voice. “I can imagine that career suicide can hurt just as much as the real thing. I would never speak against my boss.”
“Honey,” she declared, “I’m guessing you haven’t been at that job of yours very long, because not a day goes by that I curse the man who pays my bills. Give it some time, child, you’ll have hatred in your heart before you know it.”
O’Connor snickered slightly before taking a sip from his hot cup of coffee.
“If I’m lucky enough,” he said, “to hate. I guess its only a matter of time before I have hate... in my line of work.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m in the gold mining business.”
“Well, there’s slitting your wrists...drinking poison... and...hanging yourself. Have I already mentioned slitting your wrists?” Cleaver O’Connor asked. His huge, green eyes looked up from the cafe countertop and in to the eyes of an older woman. Betty was her name, by the looks of her nametag.
“I think you did, hon’ ” She responded with a preoccupied southern drawl. She put a pencil behind her ear and walked back to the kitchen counter, where a pile of steaming plates of breakfast were waiting to be served.
“I guess no matter how you slice it, no pun intended, it still hurts.” he remarked with feigned pity in his voice. “I can imagine that career suicide can hurt just as much as the real thing. I would never speak against my boss.”
“Honey,” she declared, “I’m guessing you haven’t been at that job of yours very long, because not a day goes by that I curse the man who pays my bills. Give it some time, child, you’ll have hatred in your heart before you know it.”
O’Connor snickered slightly before taking a sip from his hot cup of coffee.
“If I’m lucky enough,” he said, “to hate. I guess its only a matter of time before I have hate... in my line of work.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m in the gold mining business.”