Caf-fiend.

Seething headache. Slitted bloodstained eyes. Bone-dry mouth and tongue like sandpaper. It's a hangover all right and I have one. Fierce. I was talking a walk this afternoon swerving like I just hyped a methadone fix. I knew I desperately needed caffeine. If you've ever been to Milwaukee you more or less know that coffee (and PBR) are the lifeblood of this city. We got the shit on every corner like liquor stores in the hood. For some reason I love the coffee at Mickey D’s but if you've ever been to McDonald’s on North Ave you more or less know that the people who hang out this place look like they belong in the special needs wing of Professor X's mutant academy. I walked through the door and surveyed the scene. To my left - a paraplegic eating a half dozen apple pies with an inbred who looked like she was suffering from fetal alcohol syndrome. To my right - a man steadfastly rocking bootleg Packers gear all-over print parachute pants and a sleeveless flannel shirt, the physical living embodiment of bad fashion from the early 90s. Ahead of me in line, a fat bodied overly friendly co-ed who was carefully trying to explain that she just wanted to order a chef salad with no dressing while she was sipping a whip cream topped iced drink that looked like it's calorie content could kill a diabetic just by looking at it. I counted 10 "Thank You's" from her before she left to suck down her lard cocktail. As it was my turn to order, I went to the slack jawed woman behind the counter and gave her my demand. "Extra value meal number two with a large coffee to go please” She stared at the combo board, squinted her eyes, and studied it with intense determination. "Did you want Combo Number 2?" She replied. "Yes Combo 2". This sent her into a panic - I apparently was the first person in McDonald’s history to order this combo. The woman took a deep breath and furiously set out to work, all the while looking like I just asked her to climb a mountain. With the help of several other co- workers and several more questions about the combo directed towards me, I had myself my precious extra value meal - no less than 10 minutes later from the time I ordered it.

As I was waiting with my headache splitting, noticing the dried vomit on my shoes another glass eyed drooling man came in to talk to the inbred who was sitting by the door. Their conversation revolved around talk of using McDonald’s coupons, disgustingly non-subtle sexual advances towards each other, and how "Charlie" or "Chahhhlie" (obnoxious southern accent) found a bag of money, or as he repeated four times "un-mahhked hunnid dollahh bills", down by Humboldt and turned it in. He walked to the counter to place his order while they were still scrambling to fulfill mine. As he was waiting for the McDonald’s "Team" to honor his coupons - I swear to you, he launched into a loud accapella performance of Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" - belting the chorus at a lounge- jazz like tempo, loud enough that even the homeless man in the corner of the "restaurant" exchanged looks with me - like, "Is that guy crazy?" God damn my caffeine dependency.