…Please stop trying to kill me. Seriously! If I did something to offend you let me know and I will apologize immediately. Did I accidentally cut you off in traffic? Call you Osama Bin Laden? What is it? I just can’t understand why you try everyday to slowly poison me. At first I thought it was because your English was bad, but then I heard you humming some song while you dilly dallied around the coffee machine. You speak well enough. Then I thought that I wasn’t being loud enough or maybe you were hard of hearing, then I semi-yelled at you and we made eye contact, and that goofy head nod. And still…You try to kill me. All I asked for was a large cup of hot tea with sugar. Light sugar, maybe a teaspoon or two packets. Not diabetes in a Styrofoam cup. I knew I wasn’t crazy. Yesterday after I ordered I watched you make it. I saw you slip into the little corner and fill a quarter of the damn cup with sugar and then water and the generic tea bag labeled “regular”. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you not know that I am working on my healthiness and not trying to die at 41? Do you not know that the “Sugar” is a real disease? They call it the “Sugar” for a reason. Or didn’t you know this already? Is this some sort of back handed racial slur. I see how nervous you get when your store is flooded with brown faces. Then the whispers in your native tongue, and giggling, and eye pointing, I see you. Well Abu, ALL BLACK PEOPLE DON’T LIKE THEIR DRINKS OVERLOADED WITH SUGAR. I don’t even drink Kool-aid. I just want to drink my tea and not go into fuckin sugar shock. Can you just make my shit like I asked you to? HOT TEA, 2 sugars. No more. No less. I just want my afternoon caffeine fix, but I don’t want to die for it.
Sincerly,
KD
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