In my borders

I love bookstores. It's the people in them that bother me. If I ever get rich, I mean filthy, stupid rich, I'm going to buy a Borders and then shut the fucking thing down. Lights on, barristas slouching behind the counter fingering their face jewelry, maybe two or three stockers typing at the info counter or pulling book carts. But doors locked. No customers other than me. For music, Brahms only. No Dead Can Dance. Because the music in Borders should be for the customers, not for the damned spiky haired livid poseurs behind the coffee counter. They're there to friggin work in my Borders.
In Asshole Borders I try to focus on this book I'm holding while these two brats giggle and blather about complete bullshit. And then I told Perry there was nooooo way I was going to take Kelly back as a friend after the way she acted at the party. She KNEW Brendan liked her the WHOLE time... I'm getting so pissed I can't read a word, it's like I don't even know English anymore and I turn in my seat and rubberneck. Just turn around kinda halfway in my seat with my neck craned around and probably veins stickin out, staring at the little sluts for like ten seconds until one of em notices. What are you staring at? This is a public place. We can talk as much as we want to. If you don't like it, move. It's a free country. Go on, Ally. So the other one rolls her eyes and keeps going and I get up, cuz I don't have to take this shit.
Over at the coffee counter I get in line behind this lady with too blond hair and a members only type trenchcoat. You know the kind I mean, from like 1983 with epaulettes and it's light gray and looks brand new. She turns around and gives me the look and then with the nose up turns back toward the counter. She starts ordering and it starts pissing me off that she never looks at anybody. She looks at the menu board up on the wall while she orders and then looks past the barristas even though she's looking almost right at them. One of them asks her a question and she answers without moving her head or taking her eyes off the menu board up over their head. I'm looking at her like what's your problem, cunt? but when she turns around she looks right through me and then turns back around since she's the only one here. I'm sick of her shit and I don't have enough for coffee anyway.
Over by the computer manuals and math books I'm hoping to settle in and finally enjoy this book. I'm beginning to feel like the Skipper and I'm stuck with Gilligan out in the middle of this sea of assholes. Don't these people have lives? Now this skinny guy is in my chair. He's in his fifties, maybe early sixties with blue nylon exercise pants and a white long sleeve t-shirt on. He's bald and the ring of hair around his pate is mostly white with just a little black that matches the frames of his glasses. He's clean shaven and his watch looks plastic but his Mercedes key fob is sitting on the armrest. He's reading in his lap with his head down and I wonder if he's an engineer or a professor or something. At least he's reading. You can respect that.