STYLE: Random Scene
RATING: PG for cussing
LENGTH: Super Short
SUMMARY: An unsuspecting man litters in front of Salvador Santos, the last person you want to litter in front of, EVER.
I hope I'm not the only one who sees the humor in this.
The afternoon was absolutely gorgeous. The sun was warm and cozy, and a soft cool breeze kept it from growing too hot on the cheeks of the people who went about their business along the worn paths of a local park. Lunch time had passed and it wasn't quite time for the day's work to be over, so the park was sparsely populated. The only people there were people who had no where better to be.
A man, perhaps a college student, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, and a bundle of books balancing a coffee in his arms, walked slowly through the park. His eyes were intent on a row of buildings just past a row of trees that marked the end of the park. Quietly, to himself, he hummed an annoying popular song. He didn't like the song, it just, like many others, had worked its way into his mind and found no way to work itself out.
Another breeze picked up and fluffed the man's wispy bangs. He was almost to the line the trees and the street that lay beyond it. The paper coffee cup he had earlier gotten at a local coffee shop, scooted gently across his books as the wind blew harder. He didn't hear the sound, he was too focused on the song in his head. With a single blunt sound of hard paper against booktop, the coffee cup leaped and crashed onto the sidewalk, bleeding a milky puddle of warm Chai Latte.
The man blinked in surprise and stopped for a moment to glance down at his fallen drink. Tiny snakelike streams formed at the edges and made their way to the crack of the sidewalk, which they followed into the grass. The man looked back up at the line of trees and the buildings that peeked from behind them, and then looked down at the coffee soaked scene laying on the ground. The coffee cup rolled mindlessly back and forth in the wind. The man shrugged his shoulders and began to walk on as the annoying tune hit him in full force, and his humming continued.
"Pick it up." A gruff voice demanded from behind.
"Hmmmmhuh?" The man pulled out of his humming and looked to his sides.
"I know you're not fucking deaf." The voice preserved its tone.
The man bounced his shoulder as he turned, so his backpack wouldn't slip off. Standing there was a dark man with dark features, dark clothes, dark sunglasses, and even darker hair. He had a strong and intimidating presence about him, yet he carried himself with cool relaxed confidence, as if he didn't even have to try. The young college man didn't know it, but his name was Salvador Santos, and if he had known the dark man's name, he wouldn't have picked his next few words.
"Excuse me?" The man raised a brow.
"Your cup, fuckface." Sal gave a quick jerk of his head towards it. "Pick it the fuck up."
"I'm going to be late for--"
"You think I give a shit about your god damn personal life? There is a trashcan right the fuck next to you." Sal's brows narrowed. "Pick that shit up."
The man looked at the cup and adjusted the books in his arms. "I a-"
"What is that?" The man's eyes widened.
"What do you fucking think it is?" Sal waved the tip of his gun towards the cup. "You don't want me to tell you again, fuckface."
"Oh God." The man's voice shriveled into a squeak. "Please don't shoot me."
Sal cocked his gun.
"Oh God. I'm picking it up! Oh God! I'm picking it up!" The man dropped his books as he scrambled to pick up the cup and lid. He looked back over at Sal's stone expression and could only see a terrified reflection of himself in his dark sunglasses. With shaky hands, and perhaps shakier legs, he made his way to the trashcan and dropped the cup inside.
"That wasn't so hard, now was it, fuckface?" Sal tucked his gun into his jacket. "Get your ass moving. You're late."
"Y-yes sir!" The man quickly gathered his books in a messy jumble and walked off. Once he got to the edge of the park, he broke into a run.
He never ordered a Chai Latte ever again.