Tag: baristacoyote

“Aiyee!”

Angie scurried behind a booth. Steam filled the coffee shop that the place resembled a scene from a horror movie.

“Hey
dude…you good?” She called out from her hiding spot. The steam was
starting to clear a bit. She craned her neck around the booth in a
cartoon-ish fashion. “Repairman?”

The Repairman was holding still, swaying back and forth. His eyes were nothing but spirals, but at least they were their normal white paint. His siren light, too, was steadily blinking red again. A soft whistling sound could be heard every time he spun.

“…Ya got that in my size…?” he slurred, clearly dazed, before collapsing to the ground with a Crash! The whistling wound down as he fell, to be replaced by loud snoring. His inky form melted gently into a puddle as he began to sleep, no longer able to protest.

‘You gotta be kidding me’ was the only thought going through her head.

How
was she to prove herself? And exactly how strong WAS that drink again?
She didn’t know. She didn’t have caffeine goggles with her.

“Woah, woah! Hey!” She held her paws out next to her head. “It’s just me!”

The Repairman, meanwhile, was shaking as he tried to discern the real Angie from an evil clone, imposter, or what-have-you. A whistling sound came up as it looked like his head was steaming. His painted eyes seemed to jiggle more and more, the colors flashing even brighter and faster.

First two, then four, then eight more Aggies seemed to appear. The inkblot tried to keep the cork gun on every one of them, but it wasn’t long before he was surrounded. Finally, he let out a scream and fired the gun, the cork flying out with a pop! The outflow of steam coming from his head suddenly increased, and it briefly got so thick that no one could see.

There was no stopping him, that was for sure. The Shotgun had done its job.

She still had plenty of time to stop the tower, though!

Angie
let out a yelp as it wobbled to the left. She took the chance and
rushed the tower, pressing her body against the side. It wouldn’t do
much, since the tower began to wobble in the complete opposite
direction.

“Ohh no.”

“Eek!”

The Repairman turned, satisfied that the glass was supported, to see that the wooden tower was about ready to topple! No, he couldn’t have this happen! He had to help out somehow!

He dashed over to the other side, and pulled out a trampoline. That should soften the impact, right?

He kept beaming about this stroke of genius, apparently oblivious to the fact that the wooden frames simply bounced up into the air…

Landing right on top of the Repairman, making a huge cacophony of clatters and slams, and kicking dust up everywhere.

When it all settled, the Repairman burst out of the top part of the newly formed pile, and not only was his vision still shaky and pulsating with colors, but now he was seeing double as his eyes spun around.

Suddenly, he whipped out an ordinary wooden pop gun and pointed it a few feet to the right of Aggie.

“IKNOWTHEREWASONLYONEAGGIE,” he shouted, hands shaking as he glared at what his caffeine-and-concussion-addled mind thought was two of the coyote. “WHICHONEISTHEREALREALREALONE?!”

As the repairman added more supplies, Angie slowly stored them to the
side. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t notice. She didn’t know whether to
laugh or actually be concerned.

“That’s really great and
all, but I’m good.” At this point, Angie had a whole stack of supplies
behind her. Her tail brushed the top of the frame tower, and she was
careful not to fall backwards.

“…andglassandglassandpanelingand–oh?”

The Repairman’s preparations came to a (literal) screeching halt. There was a moment of silence as he noticed the towers of supplies. He thought about this for a second, still clearly unable to stay still. Then it clicked.

“AUGH!” he cried out, making a mad dash towards one of the piles. “SAFETY-TY-TYHAZARD!”

He didn’t want any of these to topple onto the poor coyote, so he tool a quick glance at the glass stack, seeing how he could stabilize it. Looking around, he saw an enormous pile of wooden frames.

Perfect, his caffeine-addled mind said as he began to yank frames from the bottom of the stack. He rapidly broke them into support beams to keep the glass sturdy, but failed to notice two things.

One: There were way more planks holding the glass up than necessary.

Two: The frame tower was starting to wobble threateningly…

‘Holy hell,’ was the only thought running through her head. She had
never whipped up a concoction this energizing. Then, she noticed the
tool cart.

“ONONOWAIT!” She spread herself over the open space
and grinned sheepishly. “I mean, I’ve wanted a skylight for a while.
This place needs a little light, don’t you think?” Angie gave a
lighthearted chuckle.

The Repairman jumped back about a yard at Angie’s panicked shout. As she explained herself, he nodded vigorously.

“Isee-see-see,” he said, digging into his toolbox. “Icouldstillhelpinstall-stall-stallingit!”

His eyes brightened as he pulled out a bag of nails, a glass pane, and some wood.“Youllneedframesglassandsomethingtosupport-port-portitallandframesandglassandframesandnailsandframes…”He continued, rattling off his list as he randomly pulled out more of the same three items. Rapidly, they began to pile up. The inkblot seemed totally oblivious to everything other than getting more supplies.

Angie looked around for something or
someone, but the shop was empty. It was just the two of them, and it was
probably for the best.

She was starting to regret her decision
about giving the Repairman The Shotgun. She hadn’t served the drink in
years, and now she knew why.

After several disturbing seconds,
Angie noticed that his giggling fit had ceased. She cautiously stepped
forward. “…Everything alright in there?”

The Repairman didn’t seem to notice as Angie stepped forward. He just sat there, staring at the table in front of him. Then, as she was close…

BLAM!

He shot up like a rocket, creating a new and messy skylight in the cafe. Thankfully for Angie’s shop, he fell down the same way, landing with a splat and quickly reforming. He started bobbing his head back and forth, humming without a tune but with a consistently rapid tempo.

He ran around the shop multiple times in this manner, before finally stopping, apparently noticing the hole he created for the first time. After a silent moment of contemplation, he turned to the coyote.

“Icanfixthatnoproblem!” he exclaimed confidently, before pulling his tool cart out of his hammerspace.

baristacoyote:

askthefwrp:

She shrugged, smirking to herself. “Whatever floats your boat.”

After
mixing everything together, the final touches were added. Angie topped
the shotgun elixir with whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate. Once
everything was set, she put a plastic top on, grabbed a straw, and
headed over to the repairman’s table.

“Thank you,” he nodded, taking the cup gratefully. He took a moment to stare at his drink. Why was it called “the Shotgun”…? He shrugged, and the straw bulged as he managed to suck up the whole thing in one gulp.

The veins seemed to fade from his eyes, which regained their normal blank whiteness. He sighed in relief.

And jolted upright. His eyes seemed…just a little bit too wide. He leaned forward to steady himself on the table as he started to shake uncontrollably. Occasionally he twitched, with an odd clicking noise.

Wait, were flashes of color appearing in his eyes…?

“Now remember to take your ti-” she stopped mid-sentence as he gulped down the entire drink in one go. Her jaw was still hanging like a wooden dummy. “Did you jus- you weren’t suppose-”

She flinched as the Repairman jolted up. “Now, just relax-” 

Too late. He looked as if he’d had too many. This had never happened before. “Okay, um. Explain to me what you’re seeing!”

He was shaking even more rapidly now. He tried to maintain eye contact with Angie, but that was hard to do when there were apparently more flashing colors than a rave in the Problem Solverz universe. On top of that, he found himself unable to blink.

“I see-see-see-see LOUD!” the Repairman managed to say, before falling into a giggling fit. “Y-Y-Y-YES! A-HA-HA!”

His siren light popped out, but instead of being its normal blinking red light, it was a rapidly-moving barber pole, with colors constantly shifting. His shaking became worse still, and he was visibly sweating as ink droplets were flung every which way.

“Nnnnnnnn….”

And then he fell silent, as his vibrations seemed to slow a little. He was still seeing more color, but…was it calming a little…?

She shrugged, smirking to herself. “Whatever floats your boat.”

After
mixing everything together, the final touches were added. Angie topped
the shotgun elixir with whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate. Once
everything was set, she put a plastic top on, grabbed a straw, and
headed over to the repairman’s table.

“Thank you,” he nodded, taking the cup gratefully. He took a moment to stare at his drink. Why was it called “the Shotgun”…? He shrugged, and the straw bulged as he managed to suck up the whole thing in one gulp.

The veins seemed to fade from his eyes, which regained their normal blank whiteness. He sighed in relief.

And jolted upright. His eyes seemed…just a little bit too wide. He leaned forward to steady himself on the table as he started to shake uncontrollably. Occasionally he twitched, with an odd clicking noise.

Wait, were flashes of color appearing in his eyes…?

That new blender must have just sounded like white noise.

A sudden shout of “IT’S ALIVE!” followed by 10 shots of espresso woke him from his snooze.

Angie
glanced over his way. “Oops! Sorry! It’s just that I haven’t crafted
this drink in a while and it’s coming along perfectly! I’ve got this
part just right!” She laughed.

“Alrighty, big question. Chocolate or caramel?” She placed a hand on her hip.

“GAH!”

The Repairman shot up almost immediately after the shout, and looked towards the coyote in alarm.

“Oh,” he said, almost nodding off again, “Okay. Heh…”

He considered getting chocolate, if only because caramel might stick to his throat. Then he remembered he didn’t have a throat anyway, and said, “Oh, surprise me.”

He really was in no position to decide for himself.

“Once a year?!” She laughed. “I can’t relate, fortunately. See, I don’t have to control every break in the fourth wall.”

Angie
put a paw to her chin in thought, and ran through the list of powerful
drink options in her head. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she grinned
victoriously.

“I have an idea.” The coyote dashed to the cupboard
and pulled out the necessary ingredients for the drink. “What you’re
about to taste after I’m done is the most energized, action packed,
caffeinated coffee ever discovered by toon-kind. I call it, ‘The
Shotgun.’”

Sounded quite safe indeed…

“Don’t worry! I usually don’t offer this, so it’s on me!”

“Eh, that’s fair,” he conceded, unwilling to admit his sleep deprivation was mostly self-imposed.

“The Shhhhhotgu—” he yawned, “–un? ‘Scuse me…yeah, sure….thanks….”

He went to find a vacant (not mun-related) table, hoping he would be awake for when the coffee was done. He left the wad of cash on the counter, not really caring one way or the other. Besides, in any case, he forgot all about it. He just wanted some coffee.

Within seconds of waiting, he was fast asleep on the chair. His snoring was  normal for a Toon, with a bit of bubbling in it. After a minute he collapsed completely and landed on the floor in a still-snoozing heap.