A young (ish) girl enters, clutching her arm from whence blood has just been taken by a horrible Doctor, whom the girl suspects may be trying to build a new version of her with all the blood he has STOLEN from her poor now-bloodless arm. She shuffles over to the desk because while her shoes are BEAUTIFUL (30s style pinky-red peep-toe pumps with a bow), they are not exactly comfortable. She smiles at the obscenely young gentleman behind the counter.
Girl: Could I please have a mocha frappachino?
Boy: Of course! Your wish is my command! *he makes it* Would you like cream?
Girl *thinks to herself* NO CHANCE, IT'S EIGHT-THIRTY IN THE MORNING, WHO EATS CREAM AT EIGHT THIRTY IN THE MORNING?! HAVE YOU LOST CONTROL OF YOUR SENSES CHILD?! *but says aloud* No, thank you.
Several minutes pass, in which the boy noisily makes a mocha frappuchino and the girl thinks about Batman.
Boy: *passes mocha frappachino over counter*
Girl: *reels in horror at the mountain of cream adorning it* Soz, I said no cream. Could you take it off please?
Boy * looks FURIOUS, as if the girl has committed some kind of third-world atrocity RIGHT UNDER HIS NOSE*
Girl: *thinks about saying she's allergic to cream, but can't remember if there's milk inside a frappuchino, so says nothing* Em, could I please also have a slice of banana loaf?
Boy:*throws banana loaf and now creamless frappuchino over the counter and flounces off to serve next customer, who presumably isn't as difficult as the girl*
The girl leaves fairly contentedly with her mocha frapp and banana loaf, and heads towards her car. Within a few steps however, it becomes clear that all is not well in Mochafrapp Land. The girl slowly begins to realise that the boy has served her the new cookie-flavoured mochafrapp, with little crushed up bits of cookie in it. AT EIGHT THIRTY IN THE MORNING! IN THE GOOD MORNING! COOKIE MOCHAFRAPP!
But the girl is trapped in her nightmare as she feels boy would have a hernia if he was asked to remake another creamless, cookieless mochafrapp, so she bins it. She then eats the banana loaf too fast and feels sick for hours but that's another story.
The girl heads into work where a fairly uneventful eight hours passes. She glances amiably at the clock every few seconds as it gently tick-tocks its way to five beautiful o'clock. The girl skips merrily to her car, and drives home in skittish anticipation of the parcel that she knows will be waiting for her.
The girl enters her kitchen. A dark cloud descends over the scene. The girl slowly makes her way to a vicious slash of red on her kitchen table. Closer and closer she creeps (her shoes are still sore), her heart beats faster and faster, a light sweat breaks out on her forehead and she begins to tremble.
Girl: *whispers shakily* no........no, it can't be....
But it is.
The girl loses her mind.
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