Uploaded the wrong one the first time around >.The Angel of Caffeine is a work of fiction. Fiction! That mean's it's made up! All names, characters, and events are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons (alive or dead) or actual events (past or present) is unintentional... but funny. I mean, if anybody went through some of this stuff I'd just point at them and laugh. Then, they would beat me into a bloody pulp, and I would be very, very sorry. But, seeing how this is a work of strange fiction and entirely made up! I guess that can't really happen. Balls. If it isn't mine (songs), then I don't own it (songs). I am making no money by exploiting such works (songs), and let me assure you, if I were making money by doing so, I wouldn't be on a little Geocities account. I would have my own .com and it would be very sweet.
~the author

The Angel of Caffeine
Uno - Damn pears...

The obscene word "fuck" is rarely used as an adverb, I observe as I walk down the sidewalk, hands jammed in my pockets, head held high, and a bright smile gracing my features. You can use it as a noun, a verb, an adjective, and pretty much every other type of word in the English language, but it is seldom an adverb.

I stop suddenly, cocking an eyebrow in consideration. I walked fuckably. Fuckably, we crossed the street. 'Hey, baby,' she shouted fuckably.

It's a sunny early summer day, the kind just right to go visit the outdoor markets and look around. The cool morning mist is only starting to lift and it's the greatest feeling in the world. Not too hot, not too cold. Enough people up and about to reassure you that you're not in a sci-fi movie, but not so many that you can't take two steps without running into someone. I love being in the city, it's so lively and exciting compared to where I grew up in Hicksville, USA.

I toss my head back, getting my long blonde bangs back out of my line of vision, and start in on one of my songs.

Just a small town girl
Livin' in her lonely world
She took a mid-night train going anywhere

Yeah, the story of my life. With the exception of the fact that I'm a male.

Woke up one morning, decided college wasn't for me and that a move to the "big city" would be beneficial, caught the first Greyhound bus leaving the station, and here I am. Jobless. No relationships. Renting an apartment that should have been condemned back in the early 80's - 1880's that is. Broker than broke can be. And, on ends with my parents. But, I'm here and that's all that matters.

Just a city boy
Born and raised in South Detroit
He took a mid-night train going anywhere

Ah. It feels so nice to be out and about this morning, why not spread the happiness, you know?

"Good morning!" I chirp at the first person I see.

Tall, dark, and handsome is looking down at a bunch of pears and trying to act like a normal citizen, buying food that's good for you while smoking a cigarette that isn't. He looks at me with something hinting of shock on his face. "Good morning," he returns the gesture with little to no emotion and barely intelligible through him cancer stick.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" I continue on with the usual formalities, but the difference between me and most other people is that I mean it. I don't hand out "You have a good day"s like a common grocery clerk.

He makes a short "humph" snorty noise. "If you say so." Then goes back to selecting his pears.

I shrug. It all depends on what your definition of "beautiful" is. For some reason, he strikes me as the rainy/thunderstorm type. All dark and mysterious. Totally unpredictable. Where as I am the sunshiney/blue skies type.

"So." Might as well start a conversation, right? "Do you come here often?"

"I used to."

"Oh, well, this is my first time. In fact, I just moved here a few weeks ago, so I'm still trying to find my way around." And, you could really care less. I sigh heavy-heartedly and go about my looking. Wasting my cheerfulness on some jerk like this - I might have talked someone out of committing suicide, but no I had to say "Good morning" to this pear gazing S.O.B. Then again... maybe this guy is the one who's teetering on the brink and needs some one to pull him back before it's too late. "My name's Ashley, what's yours?"

"That a girl's name."

I try to fight back my frustration. Yes, I'm fully aware that it is a name usually assigned to a female, and that is why I spend most of my first years going by "A.J." At least he didn't assume I was a girl like most people do. It's not my fault the stupid genetics decided I would make a very nice 5 feet 1 inch, 100-something pounds, blue eyed blonde.

"Yeah, I don't know what my parents were thinking when they picked that one out of the book." I force a laugh, an attempt to cover up how much it ticks me off. "So, what about you?"

"What about me?"

Aha! See, we were not following along in our textbooks, so now that the teacher has called on you to read you don't know where the rest of the class is in the story! "What's your name?"

He glances up from the fruit to look at me momentarily. Dark brown eyes staring right through me and my facade. Great fried goober fish does he have beautiful eyes. "Lionel."

"H-Hunawha..." That was supposed to be "Oh, well, it's nice to meet you Lionel. Maybe we could meet up sometime and have coffee together or something like that. What do you think?" But, obviously, that's not at all how it came out. Not smart! Not smart Ashley!

I shake my head a few times to clear the fog. Come on, gotta say it, can't leave him hanging with "Hunawha". "W-Would you like to go out some time?"

He cocks an eyebrow at me questioningly.

AH! That didn't come out right either! "What I mean is, would you like to go out with me sometime to get coffee or - well - " I'm flustered, nothing is coming out like it's supposed to. "Just to talk, you know. Friend type stuff."

For a moment his attention goes to the stand keeper as he makes his purchase, then he turns back to me, patting me on the shoulder. "Sorry, Ashley was it? But, I don't swing that way." Before I have the chance to reply he walks off, leaving me to blush the color of the apples on display at the stand and continue to sputter over my flopped sentence.

"I was just asking you out for coffee..." I turn and yell at his retreating form. "And, for the record, I don't 'swing that way' either!" I am so not smart...


I bought pears. That whole incident was a marketing ploy to make me buy pears. So, I bought pears. Now I have pears. I don't eat pears. I do not at this current point in time have the money to go around buying pears that I do not eat. I am a moron for having bought pears. I do not like myself right now.

I kick the door to my place open, the only means by which one can enter, in time to see various biology experiments gone wrong go scuttling across my floor. My apartment is a loft like you'd see on some TV sitcom about a bunch of people who, like myself, are unemployed but, unlike me, still have the money to hang around in coffee shops all day. A nice open space with insanely high ceilings. The ideal spot for a writer, musician, or some other sort of artist. But, it's only part of the loft, the other half was destroyed by a fire in the 50's. And, it has holes the size of small wombats not only in the ceiling, but also in the floor and walls. That, plus the fact this building is infested with small mammals and birds of all shapes and sizes, structurally unsound, and on the wrong side of town. But, other than that it's a nice place, and the rent's a steal!

I dig a shiny blue bowl out of the endless piles of dirty dishes in my pigsty of a kitchen/living room/bedroom and sit it on my table with all intentions to put the pears in it, but before I can do that, my one and only friend I've made since moving in comes over to greet me. A big fat raccoon is brushing up against my leg like a house cat begging for attention... that or a pear. This same raccoon - well, the same one as far as I can tell - has been hanging around for over three weeks, eating my food, using my bath water, and sleeping in my bed. Needless to say, I think I've gotten a roommate.

"Hey there," I say as I bend down to scratch him under his chin. "Guess what I did today. I-" One of the legs on my table gives way and a blue bowl and a bag of pears go crashing to the floor. The bowl shatters on impact, splitting into a million pieces, while the pears roll around the room coming to a rest under what few pieces of furniture I own. Damn pears.

Well, balls. I'm saddened by the sight, but not enough to care about fixing the table and finding the pears I don't eat.

" - I think I need to look for a job." Not only in money the root of all evil, but it is necessary for survival. After money comes food, clothing, a better apartment, and other such assorted goodies.

The raccoon and I settle down on my bed, or as others would affectionately call it "a pile of blankets strewn across the floor", with today's want ads, skimming for anything interesting. All that I see is endless lines of 'Experience Needed' and 'Must Have Experience'. How does anyone get their first job in this city?

The same way I cleared my name with Mr. Lionel today. You lie.

I uncap my red pen and start circling like mad.