Short Story by Allen ’17J: Routine

I want lime wedges not slices. The blade must hit at exactly a 45 degree angle, you do know what that means right? I know you failed geometry but surely you can follow simple instructions? The limes go into the drink after the ice, are you daft? The bottles are in the cabinet where they always are. I said TEQUILLA not vodka. Can you not read? Did you not learn the ability to make out simple words in the thousands of dollars of education I have provided for you? You won’t even make it as a waiter, apparently. How many limes? The club soda must be poured three separate times. I do not want all bubbles, and don’t let it spill out over the top of the glass. If you get any soda on the carpet you’ll be washing it for the next week. Maybe that would be good practice for your future though, who knows. Why is my drink not ready? There’s no tequila left. Be fucking resourceful for once. Figure out a solution. Go to the store and buy some. Why would you only buy one at a time? Does that make sense? Use your head. Buy in bulk so you don’t have to cause me these constant headaches all the goddamn time. You are as incompetent as your mother was sometimes, I swear. I have to spell everything out or nothing gets done.  The liquor store doesn’t open until 10am.

FIGURE IT THE FUCK OUT. Those lime slices aren’t even right.

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