Is It FRESH?

by James MacLaren

What the hell causes people to ask the guy behind a counter, “Is it fresh?”

Like they’re gonna get a straight answer or something.

Right.

The dumb sonofabitches wouldn’t know fresh from a frisbee. Basically, you tell ‘em, “Of course it’s fresh,” just to get them out of your hair and let you get on with doing whatever the hell it was that you were doing when they decided to interrupt you with their mindless question.

And so, armed with the knowledge that “it’s fresh,” they happily pour themselves about a quart of coffee into a styrofoam cup emblazoned with the company logo in the brightest of colors. “Ah, that’s mighty good coffee. Breakfast of champions. Put hair on your chest,” and no end of equally stale little remarks intended to pass for a sense of humor in somebody who’s never had a good belly laugh in their whole life.

Take their fucking money and send them out into the world, happy as a lark because they got it fresh.

Yeah, it’s fresh. It was fresh fucking yesterday, it’s still fresh today, and the motherfucker is damn sure gonna STAY fresh till somebody gets the very last of it and you have to make a new batch.

Fuck off asshole.