Never again will I pour hot coffee from pots or steam milk for frothy cappuccinos. No longer will I gather loose tea leaves from mason jars and seep their leaves in piping hot water; for I have said cheerio to coffee and ta-ta to tea at my coffee shop job at long last. Still I must admit, that along with almond croissants and café au laits, I will truly miss the Breakfast Club.
The Breakfast Club are a group of cranky old men who convene each morning to fret and bicker over cups of coffee and day old newspapers. They scarcely say hello and until someone starts up about Washington or the fickleness of Wall Street, they remain obstinately mum the whole morning procession. There must be only four or five of these grey-haired grouches who each patiently wait his turn to frown at his ancient companions. No matter how little they discuss or how red in the face they get, like clockwork they return the next day to argue over the same things once more. Who knows how many of their conversations I have eagerly lent an ear and had to restrain from piping in?!
Until the morning when I too wake up old and grumpy, ready to dispute presidential candidates and rumors of an early spring, I will dearly miss the Breakfast Club.
By Curly Cue 8/26/12
I have a feeling that my father is one of the Breakfast Club haha
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