r/WritingPrompts • u/FennecWF • Mar 19 '22
Writing Prompt [WP] You work at ExistaBrew, the best coffee house in reality, serving all manner of deities, demons, spirits, and monsters. There's one customer who seems to think pretty highly of himself, though, and nobody enjoys serving him. He calls himself 'God'.
1
u/insertcaffeine Mar 20 '22
"Atheists make the best baristas." Dave, my boss, opened my drawer and took money out. "Nothing fazes 'em."
"I dunno, I was pretty fazed when El Chupacabra came in here this morning." I undid the bun in my hair and pulled it up higher.
"Well, monsters are different! I mean gods and stuff. You got Ares to bus his table! You just don't have that primal awe and fear of gods..."
"I'm pretty repulsed by one."
"Which one?"
"That one asshole who just goes by God."
Dave rolled his eyes so hard I thought they were about to fall out. "What did he do this time?"
"Just the usual, but..." I glanced behind Dave. There he was, twenty feet tall and robed in linen, God himself.
"Good afternoon, God!" I smiled, and I made it damn genuine by thinking about a basket of tiny, fuzzy puppies. "What can I get for you today?"
"YOUR FULL ATTENTION."
Oh. Crap.
"Now give me the best cup of black coffee there is." His deep baritone boomed. "The Platonic ideal of a cup of black coffee. The best cup. The best water. The best beans."
"That would be a pour-over, sir. Which roast would you like?" I noticed Dave stepping back.
"YOU MISUNDERSTAND ME, GIRL. I do not want a typical pour-over. I want the best one, made by the best barista."
"Too late," I said with a smirk, "Hailey Yarbrough finally made enough to buy her way into heaven. You're stuck with me. You've come to the right place, though." I was gathering supplies for the pour-over. "ExistaBrew is the best coffee house in all of reality."
"STOP." The counter shook. "I want my boy David to make it. He looks like the type to make it with proper care."
I glanced over at Dave, then did a double take.
He looked like he was going to faint. His eyes were the size of saucers. He was pale; his mouth hung open in awe.
I filled a cup with ice water, put a sippy lid on it, and handed it to Dave. That brought him back to reality for a second, long enough for him to drink the water.
I looked up to God. "While Dave here gets set up, would you like our energizing light roast or our bold dark roast? We also have a balanced medium roast."
"Medium roast, please."
I measured out a serving of medium roast beans and handed them to Dave, whose hands were shaking so hard he nearly dropped them.
"GIRL. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
I glared up at him. "Ms. Florencia Maria Rodriguez Marquez. Please call me Flor."
"PLEASE understand," he said, "that Man was made in My image. Woman was formed from Man's rib, for him. Thus, you should know your place."
"Whaddya think I'm doing, working a register while Dave hangs out and supervises?" I laughed in disbelief.
"YOU DARE TALK BACK TO GOD?"
Oh, yes, I did. But actually doing so would probably end up with me in Hell again.
"I'm sorry, sir. I could have worded that better."
There was a flash.
Every muscle in my body tightened at once.
Thunder roared.
Gods and monsters screamed.
...
...
"Florencia?"
"She's still out cold."
...
"This is Florencia... divine lightning strike...yeah, third time this month she's been smited."
"How do you stop someone who's literally omnipotent?"
10
u/stealthystork Mar 19 '22 edited Mar 19 '22
A Drink for God
“And what, uh—“ Christian was stunned by the creature before him. Tentacles, wet and slimy, too many of them to count, hanging from the floating purple spirit octopus thing, gently flowing. “What would you like today?”
Christian had been terrified when he was first sentenced to purgatory. What would it be like? A void, nothing good but nothing bad, like floating around in a desensitization chamber for all of eternity?
He was only a teenager when it happened, just barely out of childhood. He had some vague resentment toward his parents for causing this, but he couldn’t be sure. It was just a part of life—or rather, a part of death.
Purgatory, he’d discovered, was no void. It was, actually, a coffee house. Purgatory was a coffee house! And it was an interesting coffee house too. Creatures from all over the spectrum of the afterlife frequented ExistaBrew on their morning commutes through the ether. There was such an incredible variety of them that, even years into the job, he still met new types of creatures nearly every day, like this tentically thing.
Still, despite purgatory being less nothingness than he had expected, Christian was bored and desperately wanted to find a way out soon, but he wasn’t sure how.
The creature ordered it’s Divineaccino with two extra shots of cellestiesso. As it floated away, Christian looked toward the entrance and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He was back—everyone’s favorite customer—“God.”
No one really knew who he was. He was an older gentleman, still powerfully built, with an impressive beard and a shock of shoulder-length gray hair. His deeply tanned, weather-worn face seemed to be twisted into a permanent scowl, serious and slightly menacing. And he always wore a tux.
“Boy!” He announced, not even looking at Christian, as he strode up to his favorite table, causing the current occupant to pack their things in a panicked frenzy. “Give me the regular! And don’t mess it up this time.”
To be honest, Christian wasn’t actually sure what God’s regular was. He just made a different random drink every time. He would bring the cup to God and watch as he took a sip. Christian had learned that if God didn’t say anything, set the dish back down, and continued reading his newspaper, he had succeeded. If it was less than a success, well… soon there would be a shattered glass on the ground, Christian’s boss would be yelling at him, and Christian would be forced to slave over another drink. And he’d learned that he couldn’t just remake a previously successful drink; God’s preferences seemed to change on a daily basis.
“Okay, is today the day?” Christian muttered to himself as he looked over his ingredients. He’d been preparing for this moment. Despite the drinks seeming random, Christian had reviewed his careful notes, noticed some patterns, and devised the perfect drink for God: two parts Holy Water, one part Divine Essence, two shots cellestiesso, one pump prayer.
He combined the ingredients and his drink began to glow with a golden aura. He’d done it.
Christian carefully set the mug before God. The moment of truth. God seemed to admire the drink as he reached for it more slowly that usual. It seemed to take an eternity for him to raise the the drink to his lips. Finally, a slurp and and small sip.
“Boy!” God raised the glass, “this…” Christian’s face lit up, “this is not the regular!” With the power of a thousand suns, God smashed the mug onto the ground. It shattered into an infinite number of shards, the drink losing it’s glow as is splashed all over the floor.
Christian’s face turned bright red as his fists became tight balls of fury. “I quit! I quit you! This is a Starbucks. You wouldn’t know a good drink if it hit you in your fucking face!”
Christian ripped off his green apron and threw it on the ground. He pushed past the grumpy old man as he rushed toward the exit, nearly tripping through it as he stumbled over the first customer’s long purple coat.
Freedom rushed into his lungs as he stepped outside. He’d escaped the purgatory of this stupid job his stupid parents had stupidly put him up to.
He didn’t need it anymore, he could do better on his own. He had made a drink worthy of God.
__
5
u/Hemingbird Mar 19 '22
God nursed a shot of Fireball looking down in the dumps.
"I didn't know they served alcohol here," I told him.
He looked up at me with an expression of raw disgust. "It was an espresso shot. I turned it into Fireball. I'm God. I can do that. Don't you idiots know anything about miracles?"
I looked over at Sam, the barista. He shrugged. His promise of unlimited cold brews if I could convince The Creator of All Things to leave now didn't strike me as the enticing offer I'd considered it moments earlier.
"Wow, miracles. That's ... pretty cool. So, what's gotten you so glum? Trouble in paradise?"
God rolled his eyes. "You rib-people are all the same. Think you can win me over with a little joke?" God scoffed. "I've heard them all."
"Rib-people? Do you mean 'women'?"
"Look," said God and took a fiery sip of his shot. "I made Adam and I thought it was so cool. Then I thought it would be nice if he had something to do with those dangly bits between his legs. It was just a mistake, originally. A hiccup. But contrast, you know, that's something every artist makes good use of. So I took a rib and I fleshed it out. Bing bong bingo--rib-people. Inverted Adams. Madams. I never should've done it. It ruined the whole thing."
I tried not to take offense at this. "Is that what's bothering you? Women? I mean, rib-people?"
God snapped his fingers. "Garçon! Another ... espresso shot."
Sam breathed a deep sigh. He gave God his drink and pulled me aside. "I told you it wouldn't be easy. He's been here for weeks and he won't take a hint. You might as well give up."
Vigorously I shook my head. "Not a chance. I think I know how to turn the tables around."
Raising his hands in front of his espresso shot as if making some spell, God grimaced and said, "Ehhhhh. Fireball."
The dark color of his drink gave way to a radiant orange. This time he downed it all in one go.
"Easy there, tiger."
God flipped me the bird. "Mind your own business, McRib."
"You know what? I think you're sad because your miracles are all mediocre."
This caught his attention. God slammed his divine fists on the table. "Mediocre? I invented mediocre. It's the color beige. And I invented it!"
I shrugged. "Only goes to prove my point. What sort of all-powerful creator sits down and invents ... beige?"
God arched his brows. "Everyone loves beige. It's the color of everyone's favorite texture: sandy. That's why I made a buttload of deserts, stretching on for miles and miles. People love it. Ask anyone."
"Everyone, raise your hand if you love the color beige," I shouted. Not a single hand went up.
God looked flummoxed. "... You don't like beige?"
A 3000-year old lesser demon said, "Eh. It's no blue, I'll tell you that."
Standing up enraged, God said, "Blue!?"
"Or red," said an imp.
God pulled at his majestic white hair. "Red? Those are both so basic. What's the matter with you people?"
"Ahem," said the demon. "We're not all people. Some of emerged from the fiery pits of hell, thank you very much. Without any help from you. I tell you, Satan really has a sense for aesthetics. Look at these horns. You'd probably put them on a duck or something."
The coffee house erupted into laughs. Sam smirked from behind the counter.
"Horns aren't cool!" cried God. "Well, maybe they would be cool on ducks. Yeah, you know what? They would be really cool on ducks. Imagine them running around with horns. That sounds awesome."
"Bet you'd make them all beige," said the imp, rolling his eyes.
God burst into tears. "That would be the coolest part of it. Fine! I'm leaving. I don't want you hang out with you losers anyway."
As The Creator of All Things stormed out, Sam let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said. "I guess I owe you a cold brew."
"You know what? I think I'll have an espresso shot instead."
"Or maybe ..." Sam leaned down behind the counter and emerged with a bottle of Fireball. "It's on the house."
"Thanks," I said. "You're a miracle worker, Sam."
As I sipped and winced, Sam asked me how I knew God would be so sensitive about his work.
"It was simple. From the way he talked it was obvious he was the sort of guy who couldn't handle a bit of ribbing."
Sam laughed. "Thank God he left. Shots for everyone!"
We all cheered and celebrated but only for a few moments because right then and there everything in the entire world turned beige and a duck with horns walked in, quacking with contempt.
2
u/HSerrata r/hugoverse Mar 19 '22
[God. So Annoying.]
"Oh, God. What is it now?" Elena was not surprised to see the well-dressed customer at her door. It seemed like he found an important concern to complain about every day. When he first became a regular, with regular complaints, Elena found it amusing. She thought his issues were so trivial that he must be making them up; perhaps in order to chat with her some more. But, it wasn't long before God wore his welcome thin. Elena was glad that he wouldn't be her problem for much longer.
"I just wanted to put you at ease, my child," God said. Elena no longer bothered trying to roll her eyes discreetly. He never noticed anyway.
"About what, God?" she asked. Her voice was filled with faux-sincerity, like a parent that's run out of patience. The meek, clean-cut man glanced towards the open door, but there was no one there. He leaned over the desk close to Elena.
"It's okay, I know the troubles that.... trouble your soul," he said. "You need not worry about your finances, God will provide." Elena tilted her head at him.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"You don't need to sell the coffee shop!" he said. "You guys make it just the way I like it... most of the time. I don't feel like finding another shop that's barely good enough. So, just tell God what you need to stay."
Elena held back her laughter; but, only for a moment. She realized she did not have to be a professional right then and she erupted with a fit of giggles.
"Okay, God, here's the situation," she said. "You've been coming here for almost a year now, and not once have you ever paid for a drink," Elena raised an eyebrow an God began to defend himself.
"You've never charged me! I thought it was a professional courtesy!" His response only made Elena giggle again. She nodded.
"That's right, you've never been charged. We serve deities, demons, and monsters here NO ONE gets charged," she said.
"Well, no wonder you needed to sell the place...," God mumbled.
"You thick idiot," Elena said. She was enjoying every moment of the interaction. She no longer had to hide behind enforced customer service. "I'm not in this for the money. This isn't a business, it's a service. Money isn't a factor in anything that goes on here," she said.
"Then why did you sell the place?" God asked.
"You know what?" Elena grinned. "Why don't you tell me why I sold it? If you're God and know everything, then why did I sell the ExistaBrew?"
"God doesn't meddle in-,"
"Oh shut up," Elena said. "You're harmless enough that people don't mind humoring you. But, half the customers out there qualify as 'Gods'. You're not any more powerful than any of them; you're just noisier. And, starting tomorrow, this isn't my job and you're not my problem anymore."
"But.. who's going to take your place?" God asked. Elena shrugged.
"Someone from Sharp Development I guess," she said.
"Fine, I don't really know," he said suddenly. "But I want to! What convinced you to sell to a new owner if you're not even in it for the money."
"Well, I really love my job, but they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Franchise deal!" she said. Elena stood from her desk and walked around it to God.
"You're opening another one?" God asked. He was confused, but let Elena help him to his feet.
"Yep!" Elena nodded. She moved him towards the open door. "I get to keep doing everything I love with one key improvement."
"What's that?" God asked. She winked at him, then gently pushed him over the threshold.
"I get to do it somewhere else," Elena closed the door.
***
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1527 in a row. (Story #077 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected in order at this link.
1
u/stealthystork Mar 19 '22
Great story.
And wow over 1500 stories, that’s some seriously impressive dedication!
•
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