Prompt: You’ve just opened your first cafe, but unfortunately the exact building you opened your cafe in happens to be the exact “landing” zone for the upcoming demonic invasion. However, after the portal opened, the army was stopped on their tracks to enjoy your products.
“…And it use to be called Cafe Carl, but when the portal opened up, I switched it to Demon’s Caffeinated. Oh, wait, Fred just came in, hold on,” I said to the gorgon hunched over the counter, and shouted over the din of demons sitting around large, dark stone tables with buckets and goblets brimming with their favorite drinks, “Hey, Fred! How’s it going?”
Fred stopped mid-stride to a table near the back, raised one of his thirteen, skeletal arms, and came to the counter. “Living, and you?”
I patted the gorgon on his rocky shoulder, and he shuffled off with his drink. Before Fred got to the counter, I made Fred’s favorite, a chocolate mocha with brimstone shavings, and set it down as he arrived. “Same, same. How’s the kids?”
Fred picked up the drink, inhaled the volcanic scent, and his lipless, craggy mouth formed a smile. “I—uh—what? Oh, the kids? All little spitfires, but what can you expect, they did come out of the blood spitting, gaping hole of a demigoddess after all.”
“Okay, okay,” I nudged his gray, stone arm, laughing, “you don’t have to bring about it.”
He chuckled, the sound of gravel crunching. “Can’t help myself.”
“Hey, buddy!” a squat demon with gnarled horns said behind Fred. “If you’re done chit-chatting, can I order my drink now? I have shit to do today.”
Fred glanced behind him. “Oh sorry, I gotta go see those guys over there anyway. How much do I owe you, Carl?”
I shook my head and waved him off. “On the house.”
He nodded, raised his cup, then walked away into the crowd.
The squat demon came up to the counter, placing his three-fingered paws flat onto it. He looked up at the menu behind me. “Can I get… Uh… A peppermint volcano latte with soy, and pure whipped souls on top, please?”
“Yeah, sure, that’ll be fifty democoins.”
“What!” he shouted, his hands forming fists. “It use to be twenty!”
“Use to be, yeah, but pure whipped souls are hard to come by nowadays. Prices go up — inflation and all that. If you want, you can get the same drink without the whipped souls for thirty-five.”
He scratched his reptilian skinned neck, scanning the menu once more. “Okay, instead of the latte — can I get a chocolate strawberry cappuccino with a twist of sins of the damned? How much would that run you?”
“About twenty democoins… Sins of the damned are easier to come by this day and age.”
He nodded. “You’re telling me. I’ll take it.”
“Great,” I said, as he dropped two hexagonal, crimson stones onto the counter. I pushed them into a box beneath the counter, and turned around to set his drink.
After I handed the goblet over to him, he groaned and walked off.
Not even a thanks, asshole, I thought before a tall, blackened creature came up to the counter.
“Can I get, uh… um… What’s a hellfire latte?”
I rolled my eyes, but smiled. The demons were a lot like those they tortured, even if they didn’t know it.
Read my previous prompt, “Filling in the Memories.”
Purchase my work on Amazon.