Pierre Nora looks up at the sign outside the Starbucks and smiles. There’s definitely symbolism there. He goes inside and orders a black coffee. “Do you like working on this street?” he asks the barista.
“Yeah, my grandmother actually worked a few blocks from here when she was my age,” she replies.
She has no idea what she’s getting into.
Artemis and her huntresses burst into Starbucks, bows drawn. The goddess quickly surveys the coffee shop with narrowed eyes. “Have you seen a stag?” she demands of the patrons. They shake their heads, terrified. Artemis frowns. “I could have sworn it came this way.”
“My lady?” pipes up one huntress. “May we get coffee?”
“No, young one,” replies Artemis. “Remember, you swore off coffee forever when you joined my ranks. Caffeine throws off the hunt.”
My dearest Wormwood,
I note with grave displeasure that your patient has been drinking Strawberries and Crème Frappuccinos recently. May I suggest offering him some black coffee?
Your affectionate uncle,
Screwtape
This is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to us
AW thank you!!! A very Happy New Year from Literary Starbucks <3
I got some really quality Xmas gifts this year but nothing, nothing beats this book
Did you give or get Literary Starbucks for the holidays? We want to see!
Thanks for sharing, @whatafirefeelslike!
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through StarbucksNot a creature was stirring or causing a ruckus;The CDs were placed on the counter with care,In hopes that Clement Moore soon would be there;The baristas were busy arranging the breads;While visions of steaming milk danced in their heads;And the barista in her apron, and I in my cap,Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s chat,When out on the street there arose such a clatter,I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.Away to the counter I flew like a flash,Tore open the pastry case, knocked over the trash.The moon on the crest of the sidewalks and lights,Put espresso and lattes and scones in my sights,When what did my eyes see out the front door,But a miniature sleigh where there sat Clement Moore!Clement C. Moore went up to the counter,And he spoke in a voice that grew so much louder.More rapid than eagles his orders they came,And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:“Now, Lattes! now, Espresso! now, Teavana Iced Teas!On, Frappes! on, Cocoa! on, Eggnog lattes!To the end of the counter! to the seats by the wall!Now ventis! now grandes! now coffee for all!”As leaves that before the espresso machine fly,When they meet with soy milk, and mount to the sky;So up to the blenders the baristas they flewWith cups full of coffee, and Clement Moore, too-And then, in a twinkling, I saw in a flashThe drinks were all done with naught but a crash.As I drew in my head, and was just sitting down,Clement Moore walked up with a leap and a bound.He was dressed all in wool, from his feet to his vest,And he had Starbucks’ logo displayed on his chest,A bundle of drinks he held on a tray,And he looked like a barista just starting his day.His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!His drinks filled our noses, his scone had a cherry!His box full of muffins was drawn up with a bow,And the whipped cream on his drink was as white as the snow;The stump of a straw he held tight in his teeth,And the juice had now covered the whole floor beneath;He had a latte and a mug of cappuccinoThat shook when he laughed, like the coast with El Niño.He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old poet,And I laughed when I saw him, though I was eating a donut;A wink of his eye and a twist of his headSoon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,And bought all the CDs; then turned with a jerk,And slurping the last of his huge cup of joe,And giving a nod, out the door he did go;He sprang to the sidewalk, to the barista he waved,And about the great service he continued to rave.But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of view—“Happy Christmas to all, I bought coffee for you!”
Merry Christmas, happy second night of Hanukkah, happy almost-Kwanzaa, happy holidays!
Did you give or receive Literary Starbucks for the holidays? We want to see pictures! Tag us (#literarystarbucks) so we can revel in your amazing taste.
(via literarystarbucks)
Cecilia Ahern goes up to the counter and orders a tall black coffee.
A few minutes later, a barista arrives at her table with ten pieces of chocolate-covered biscotti.
Grinning from ear to ear, with crumbs falling from her mouth, she walks to Grafton Street and buys €7,000 worth of cashmere sweaters from Brown Thomas.
Robert Heinlein goes up to the counter and looks the barista up and down.
“How much do you weigh?” he asks.
“That’s very rude,” the barista replies.
Heinlein smiles and responds, “May I suggest investing in a sizable life insurance policy any time between now and February 3rd, 2019?”
The barista stares at him blankly.
“Oh, and could I get three cranberry scones, please?”
Nora, eating crow, has corrected her mistake. ROBERT Heinlein is back in action.
(via literarystarbucks)
Robert Heinlein goes up to the counter and looks the barista up and down.
“How much do you weigh?” he asks.
“That’s very rude,” the barista replies.
Heinlein smiles and responds, “May I suggest investing in a sizable life insurance policy any time between now and February 3rd, 2019?”
The barista stares at him blankly.
“Oh, and could I get three cranberry scones, please?”
