Fandom: South Park
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Tweek
Prompt: Comp I Essay - Choose Your Own Topic
Title: Coffee House Blues
Rating: G
Warning(s): Not...anything I can think of?
Word Count: 1,174
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. It belongs to its respective company(ies). I am not gaining anything out of this, except for a few smiles and laughs and 'awe's. Maybe. Hopefully. Just, don't sue me, 'Kay?
A/N: Ergh. This started as a school assignment. Free Descriptive Essay so she can analyze our writings. Had to choose a topic to describe and while she was talking I was scanning through and saw Coffee Shop and...uh, here we are. Probably not the best choice but Tweek couldn't leave my school work out of it. I had some fun with it, though, and it was excellent practice for my First-Person PoV and writing Tweekers. It's also a little (a lot) modified from the original 'cause I didn't want to make it obvious to her I was talking about someone in particular. So lucky you, you get more lines and a more Paranoid!Tweek ...Enjoy!

I'm totally freaking out. Like, no joke, man. It's five in the morning and we're out of coffee. Hard to believe when my parents own a coffee shop, but it's true! I tore apart our kitchen trying to find just a little - enough to get me through to lunch would have been perfect. But no, Fate has conspired against me once more and I find myself walking in what must be below freezing temperatures. I'm only in a flimy, misbuttoned long-sleeved shirt and pants I've ripped from years of being a freakin' clutz. I've got my wallet in one hand, my free one shaking in front of me, bent to hold onto my invisible coffee cup. It just goes to show how serious I am about needing my drink. Jesus Christ, I mean, man - I'm traveling through this bitter, frozen cold just to get to the one haven I have - the warmth of that one, comforting coffee shop.

As soon as I open the door, the bell rings out its little tune, noting everyone of my presence. I twitch, but the sudden attention goes unnoticed, my attention is on the absolute warmth surrounding me, encouraging me to leave the harsh fall of snow outside for something better. The thermostat must be turned to a cozy 76 degrees; a high temperature my little town never reaches on its own. My fingers quickly defrost, feeling sinking through my skin to my bones. My wallet is now wet from melted snow but that's fine. No worries, man, don't freak out! It won't soak through to the money and it's worth the little bit of water on my fingers to be able to move them once more. I'm always freaking out that I'm gonna get frostbite but my parents think that's silly and just send me on my way. Jeez.

Next - almost instantly - the bitter aroma of coffee fills my senses and that, plus the warmth, makes me almost melt on the spot. It lifts my spirits to smell the beans I've grown up with - that my house is always flooded with, sinking into the walls and staining the floors. I can smell the cream, sugar, syrup, and the different smelling beans, from Arabica to Canephora; I can tell the difference easy, man.

Doughnuts and bagels and those little French Croissants filled with chocolate surround me, mixing with the smell of bitter beans. I for one think it'd be even better if it was all coffee-flavoured - I'd definitely be eating those. Like, all day long. I'd be as fat as Cartman! Christ! That's fat!

The smell is all around me, making my head spin with joy and calming my always jittery body. Though I can't do much about my eye twitching close. Man.

I step up into the short line to order my drink, eyes half-mast and focus leaving me. All I see is the massive list posted on the wall behind the counter, filled from top to bottom, left to right with different coffee flavours and sizes. I already know what I'm in the mood for - a Vente Peppermint Syrup Mocha, please - but it relaxes me to see all those delicious caffienated choices. A bit weird since I normally can't stand having more than one choice to decide on, but knowing that even if one flavour isn't in stock there are plenty others present makes me smile. It's not...too much pressure, y'know?

The music here helps, too. My friends all enjoy that pounding, loud, random metal and techno which is way too loud and random for me to take - it's impossible to tell what will happen next, man! But here the music playing from the ceiling is calming and soothing. No bursts of beats or starling electric guitar solos. A strong rhythm plays, soft with what I'm guessing are flutes, and an old wooden guitar being gently strummed. I think I hear drums, but they aren't being pounded relentlessly - it's subtle and only lightly tapped. It reminds me of my center; my happy place. All that's needed is a river and some deer. That'd be the best coffee shop ever. But next to my awesome fantasy shop, this is the best coffee place ever. And I know. I'm like some sort of, of coffee expert. So you can totally trust me. But, like, the best part is the music fades out then back in during a song change; no loud beginning that'll scare me out of my pants. It's perfect.

"Hey, Kid, you ready to order?" A small surprised noise passes my lips and I realize it's my turn. I give a shakey smile to the barista who, used to my mannerism, smiles back as I give my order. As soon as I pay and recieve my coffee I hold the warm edge to my lips, letting the steam rise up and condensate on my face. It was my favourite ritual, one that had me twitching as the barista boy behind me chuckles at my habit. I ignore him, though I was smiling into my cup.

It was something else I loved about this place: the service was good and the baristas were nice to me. Most of them knew me and they scared away (sort of) all the other people who give me weird looks. What's so weird about a fourteen-year old in a coffee shop?

Like, like that guy! He's so judging me right now! Mister High and Mighty in his ugly black business suit - how dare you sir! ...n-not, not that I'd tell him that aloud. I mean, Jesus, what if he has a gun! He could be from the mafia or something like that! That's too dangerous for me to get mixed up in! I can't be a gangster - I trip over my pants already and they're pulled up around my stomach!

The nice barista boy saves me again, quickly calling the business man over to get his order. So I sidestepped out of line when I was asked to, posture slumped over in my relaxed state. All was right in the world.

But I wasn't able to remain mellow for long. One glance at my phone told me I would have to rush to school to get there on time. If I wasn't in this one particular coffee shop I would be going crazy. But the heat around me and the calm of the store, coupled with the steady and constantly hot liquid in my hand and mouth from the coffee, keeps me at ease. Many times I'm tempted to remain here all day, in my only sanctuary. Oh well. My free hand tangles into my knotted hair and I'm off to another dreaded day of school.