The Story

It goes something like this:

The Java-Chip

My bethren and I are sitting at the starbucks near hard rock, and this beaner walks in. first thought goes like this: "LET'S SMOKE HIM" ("yeah, with our 'hand' guns!")

Suddenly, we realise something, he stutters, tries to say his first word of enlightenment. the stutter of a frappucino. and we realise, he is repentant.

We look at each other and reach a silent agreement.

With the blessings of my two companions and the lady with the wavy hair, i stand, and stride towards him. I come to his aid.

"He WILL have the Java-Chip." I say.

He looks upon me, confused. His first word is of protest. i raise a hand; stop him, and enforce.

"He WILL have the Java-Chip."

He falters, his beaner will submissive. a look of antagony, and a hint of change. I look upon him, we stand, eye to eye.

"You WILL have the Java-Chip."

He submits. his beaner will shattered. He turns, looks at the barista.

"I will have the Java-Chip."



... the deed is done.



FIFTY YEARS LATER

Upon his death bed, he looks upon his son. he looks him in the eye. and they share a soulful moment.

He speaks: "My son."

"Yes, father."

"Fifty years ago. a wise man said unto me. six words. it was all he had to say. he spake those words upon me. these six words i will now bestow unto you."

"Father?"

"My son..."



"... you WILL have the Java-Chip."

The lights in the room die out and the Life support system slows to a constant, unfaltering tone.

The boy cries.

Later that week. the boy, acting upon his father's will. he enters the store. a warm tear rolls down his cheek. he tells the barista.

"I will have the Java-Chip."

And almost all at once. the reassuring voice, from the lady with the wavy hair herself chimes out. and for a moment. everything is right in the world.

The End

Written by: AfroToast