Short Story

Blog. I blog. I am a blogger. I'm sittin' here bloggin'. Blog, blog, blog. I enjoy blogging, it makes me blog. I blog, therefore, I blog. I like coming to this local coffee shop to blog. Blog. Blog, blog, blog. I have Internet at home, but I prefer to blog, blog, here, blog. Blogging makes me feel special. Blogging makes me feel cool, which I never was, blog, in school. Blogging, my blog makes me think I am out in the world. That I, blog, have made it in some bloggish way. Anyone can blog, and--hey-- I can blog, I am blogging. Blog, Blog, Blog? What?
"Do you need a password?" she says.
"What, blog?" I mutter back.
"Is there a password to get on the Internet here?"
The girl next to me is, blog, talking to me...
"Um, no." Blog, blog, blog. I mumble back to her.
"Thanks!" she graciously and sincerely states.
Blog, back to blog. Gosh, she interrupted me and I'm writing something important. I make a living off my blog. At least, blog I like to think so. When I got layed off from my silicon valley tech job last month, I didn't blog this much. Blog, only for fun. Now, I blog to live. If I don't blog, I might die.
"Is your Internet working?" she interrupts again.
Blog, what? "Um, yeah." I manage to get out. She spoke to me again. What do I say? I mean, blog, the Internet has to be working, obviously! She sees me here, blogging!
"Oh," the girl spurts out, " because I can't seem to log in...I'll ask the barista."
Blog, gosh. I lost my blogging concentration again. Where was I? Oh, my blog. How come there aren't any cool people out there? I complain in my blog. I can't meet any cool girls. They just aren't out there. I'm not Brad Pitt, blog, I know...but I'm not that bad. Blog, I'm lonely. Blog, I blame other people for my misery. Oh why can't I find someone, anyone?
"She's checking on it," she perkily says as she plops down.
"Oh," blog, she's talking to me again. I wish she would stop that. I am only in my blog, I exist only in my blog. It is my security blanket, my blog. I wish I knew what it felt like to be in love, blog. I could read another blog about it, but...blog, it just wouldn't be the same, I guess. I wish I had a good job, blog. I wish I was happy blog.
Blog, blog, blog. Blogging, To blog. Read my blog. You bloggers, people, just blog, read my blog. It is cool, blog. Blog, blogging is modern, it makes me modern. Blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog, blog.......
"Hey! Hey!"
Blog, "What?"
"I know you are a regular and all, but we've been closed for ten minutes now...so, could you leave?" She is angry.
Blog? Is that the girl from earlier, no blog, it's the barista. The other girl left long ago, blog, and I've just been sitting here blogging away.
"Yeah, um, give me a minute, I just need to finish this one thing, it's important."
"I have been yelling we're closing for the last twenty minutes, and I'm sorry but I have to close the till, like now."
"Yeah, just one minute," I plead.
"I'm sorry, I just have to say this, because you are here everyday, all day long. Do you think you could buy something more that just that one cup of coffee? I mean it is kinda rude. I have to work around you all day long. Feel your presence. And, now you won't even leave. I have a life, ya know? Somewhere to go. Gosh, man why don't you getta life too," she states as she storms off.
But, I'm not here, I blog. I have a blog. Life is blog. I blog.
Okay, I'll blog at home. Gosh, but how fucking rude. Not great customer service at all. That stupid barista who does she think she is? I'll tell people about how rude she is. I'll blog it. I'll write about her in my blog tomorrow. Tell the whole world how rude she is. Blog, blog. I blog, to blog. Blogging is to blog. Blog, blog, blog.