The Coffee Chronicles
Episode One
Not Your Usual Apocalypse
By Catherine Black and Amy Culberg
Starch sits at the counter of the Golden Nugget on Clark Street waiting for his friend Husky. They meet every Thursday after work, around five o'clock. The Golden Nugget, for those of you who don't know, is a diner-style restaurant decorated primarily with pink polyurethane seats and lacquered wood panels. If you're sitting at the counter you'll be sitting on pink and ivory metal fountain-style stools with your foot up on the footrail. Waiters and waitresses wear black pants and white shirts that say "The Golden Nugget Cafe." The cakes and pies behind the waitstaff all look like coconut cream except for the cherry cheesecake, which looks like it just got murdered. It's 6:45 p.m., Starch has been through seven cups of decaf and is still waiting. Dawn, his favorite waitress but not the prettiest, said hi when he came in. (Hi Starch, Hi Dawn.) It has been two weeks since the World Trade Center fell to the ground. But this is Chicago.
Dawn has a pencil behind her ear and each time she leans in to 'warm up his cuppa' the pencil falls onto the counter top, onto Starch's papers. She apologizes profusely, her ears and neck flushing deep red. Starch hands the pencil back to her, eraser first. "Sorry," she says, "Ohmygosh Sorry." He dips his mouth into the coffee, his eyes on the papers spread out on the sandwich counter - his collection of well-weathered tabloid magazines: The Star, The Globe, The Enquirer; the earliest dating back to September. He handles them thoughtfully, tracing each line with his finger, favoring the airbrushed photos, the condemning captions, the sensational headlines, and primary-colored maps. He thinks of himself as an urban cowboy, and accordingly, shakes his head when he reads the captions with his best 'aw shucks' expression. He checks his watch, turns the page, shakes his head and takes another slurp of decaf.
Enter Husky. Husky wears a trench coat. The hem has fallen. He is scrawny and serious, like an old-fashioned newspaper reporter, and is attractive to women who are independently wealthy and serve lattes in mega-bookstores. Husky is an urban intellectual. He wears broken glasses with clear tape around the temple. He walks right up to the counter and slides onto a stool beside his friend.
Dawn walks over with a pot of coffee in her hand; she turns over a mug and fills it up.
Dawn: Starch has been waitin' a while.
 Illustration by Grant Reynolds |
Husky: I know.
Dawn: Everything alright?
Husky: Terrorist scare on my way over.
(Cook yells for Dawn to pick up her order for booth #3)
Dawn: (yells) Hold on! (then quietly) But it was nothin', right sweetie?
Husky: That's right. It was nothing.
Starch returns from the men's room. He smirks and slaps Husky on the back.
Starch: So you finally showed up!
Husky: Yup.
Starch: So what happened?
Husky: Nothing happened.
Starch: Did you sleep late?
Husky: Nope.
Starch: Did your watch stop?
Husky: Nope.
Starch: Did ya break a heel?
Husky: No, Starch.
Starch: Were you washing your hair?
Husky: For Christsakes!
Starch: Tell me somethin'. I been sittin' here for an hour and a half!
Husky: Well, for one thing the train stopped.
Starch: So?
Husky: So, we were stopped between Belmont and Fullerton when we...
Starch: Was it electrical?
Husky: No, it...
Starch: Was there a grinding noise or was it more a thumpa-thumpa-thumpa?
Husky: Neither, Starch.
Starch: Did it make that chain sound like when you're goin' up a roller coaster?
Husky: Starch it just stopped. The train just stopped. Can I think about this for a second?
Starch: Fine, think then.
Starch pretends to read his tabloids, but he's looking over at Husky, who has his hand over his mouth and stares straight ahead.
Husky: Well Starch, let me tell you something...
Starch: That's what I'm sayin'!
Husky: Shhh...
Starch: (Puts his finger over his own mouth) Shhh...
Dawn: (approaches with the two pots) You two librarians need a warmer?
Starch holds out his mug while keeping his finger to his lips.
Starch: (Whispers through his finger) Thank you very much, Dawn. (She exits.)
Husky: Jesus Christ. Starch, you with me?
Starch nods.
Husky: Last night I watched CNN, had a scotch, graded papers, and went to bed. Nothing monumental, but I slept well, woke up on time and didn't miss my train. I'm doing everything right. It's an okay life, right?
Starch: Sounds good to me, sure.
Husky: But this morning the train didn't do what it was supposed to. It ran for say, about five minutes, and then stopped.
Starch: So what happened?
Husky: I'm getting there.
Starch: What'd they tell ya?
Husky: Nothing. They didn't have to say anything because it started again. We got to the next station. Then they told us to get off. So we all just stood there on the platform. We had no control over what was happening to us. We were just a group of people trying to get to work on time, you know, and we couldn't.
Starch: So what'd they say?
Husky: There was an announcement inside the train as it was leaving, but we heard it from the platform. Police action, they said.
Starch: Police action?
Husky: Right. Police action.
Starch: What kind of police action? Hey! Were they trying to kick off one of those guys, those smelly guys, that walks through the cars asking for change?
Husky: Can I tell this story?
Starch: What about one of those smelly pervert guys? Those guys make me sick. Really just sick.
Husky: Starch.
Starch: Oh! Oh! Was it one of those, uh... smelly homeless guys that, uh... get run over trying to jump on a freight train?
Husky: Starch. Freight train? What? Shhh. Just listen.
Starch: Oh my God Husky! Was it a bomb?
Husky: Someone said there was Anthrax on the train.
Starch: It says here someone sent some Anthrax to... (rummages through his tabloids)
Husky: Are you listening? I said there was Anthrax on my train.
Starch: Did you see anything?
Husky: What?
Starch: Suspicious?
Husky: Yeah Starch, I saw someone...he could have been, I don't know.
Starch: What'd he look like?
Husky: What do you think he looked like?
Starch looks up from his pages.
Starch: Can I ask you something, Husky?
Husky: Go ahead, Starch.
Starch: You think it really was Anthrax like they said?
Husky: I don't know.
Starch: 'Cause if it really was then you gotta get your nose irrigated. I read something about that. You gotta get disinfected.
Husky: My throat does hurt a little. Dawn!
Dawn approaches with the pot in hand, she pours Husky a fresh cup quickly, and takes her pot elsewhere.
Dawn: (calls back) Sorry.
Husky: Why are you sorry? Why's she sorry Starch?
Starch: That's just Dawn, you know.
Husky: Tell me something. What's new in the funny papers. I don't want to think about this anymore.
Starch: You sure?
Husky: Yeah, what's in the paper?
Starch: I didn't want to tell you right away, I wanted to save it. But since you're havin' a bad day, it says here in the Globe that Brittany Spears never was a virgin...
Husky: What else?
Starch: Sharon Stone's gonna be okay. Just a headache.
Husky: I'm starting to feel better already, what else?
Starch: You know that guy that walks down Michigan avenue yellin' through a megaphone that 'Al Gore's an alien'?
Husky: Yup.
Starch: Well...turns out he's right. Wanna see proof? They got it right here. You wanna know somethin' else?
Husky: What's that Starch.
Starch: Says they got terrorists living in Chicago.
Husky: Where in Chicago?
Starch: By the lake.
Husky: Let me see that... they've got Seattle in Oregon, Starch. That's not a real map. Look here (points to map) Kansas City's in the wrong place. Anything else?
Starch: Yup, Mohammad Atta hired a stripper in Vegas, see, it says here "for a personal celebration event." She's something I tell ya, she's got bajungas out to here. You know how much that woulda cost. I tell ya...
Husky: Those gugangas aren't real.
Starch: No? You sure...
Husky: I feel like something (he scans the menu on the counter) Maybe a pancake sandwich. Can we order over here?
Dawn walks up with her notepad.
Dawn: Sorry? What's that, hon?
Starch: You got the pancake sandwich today, Dawn?
Dawn: Sure do, sweetie, you want one?
Starch: Naw, it's for Husky here.
Husky: What kind of an egg goes on the sandwich?
Dawn: Oh honey, eggs aren't in the sandwich. They're on the side. Everyone makes that mistake.
Husky: Right.
Starch: Right.
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