Take a walk on the wild side next time you go out, and enjoy the opportunity to notice the various personality traits of human behavior in action. Not to get everyone's panties twisted while I digress momentarily, I've found some great observations, sources that include movie theaters, galleries and coffee shops. There’s an abundance of over-caffeinated and self-absorbed bleak individuals to take in these days. What's there to say when society finds itself under fire in 2026? Try joining the newest trend with a Trader Joe's canvas shoulder bag in tow. Play dead standing in line for hours, in front of chain stores with dumb names waiting for tangy frozen yogurt. While we're at it, add hot smirks to a growing list of phony annoyances.
It’s difficult to classify this particular kind of research, but we’re taking a break from the voyeuristic experience of self-indulgent media consumption. Fatigue set in after too many clicks. The pervasive display of gambling, sex and violence in everyday life is overwhelming. I cheer myself on by blowing up the computer. After that, it’s off to a bookstore to browse the magazine section.
•••
Dee’s was a barfly favorite; a popular watering hole among the students of a nearby art school. Here the stale odor of beer mixed with linseed oil lives in the air. Behind the bar counter, rows of faded snapshots of drinkers no longer alive embrace its tarnished glaze.
One hot July afternoon, Feline Lola positioned herself at one end of the bar. If you really want to know the truth, her penetrating eyes proved to be the start of something good, or something bad, depending on who you ask. God only knows what she was thinking. Locked away in her In her poetic mind, sentences that sank into a hidden soul harboring secrets. Attempts to sculpt her kind of raw chaos presented a challenge. A behavior pattern emerges. Lola knew how to shoot arrows. Alright! One went right through the center of Rick’s heart, splitting it wide open. Bye-bye now. Little cupids with golden arrows of desire flew away.
Back by the pool table, the dudes inside Dee’s acted like drunk cowboys. They told stories that were lies to impress the women. Now standing by the jukebox, Lola was noticed immediately. With one hand strategically placed on her hip, she glanced over at the young men. Her selections included Dion, L7, followed by Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” and then a Velvet Underground song. Her paint-splattered short, denim skirt resonated Krasner-Pollock throw-down fervor on full display, proving the point, oil painting was her major.
Impending rumbles of thunderstorms grew louder. Summer art school classes were in full session. Drinking was underway. Lola went back to her seat. Leaning over, she shifted herself on a stool looking over at one person in particular.
Rick is a wannabe conceptual artist. His high-intensity, experimental artwork can be described as: perplexing creations consisting of making things that fall apart. He doesn’t care what others think. Being the target of sharp subjective criticism adds to the marketing mystique. He loves the attention, but many temptations fall in his path. Remarking to his buddies lost in sweetness he couldn’t resist, sugar all night long. “Did you get a good look at that one?”
Lola’s gaze snagged Rick like a fresh hooked trout. In revealing rags and bones, she pursed her lips. Her reddish hair and luminous green eyes confirmed; a psychic pussycat who enjoyed witchcraft, magic potions and decks of tarot cards. Arching her spine, she purred mildly. Let the stalking begin. Lola circled, then sauntered over to the table going in for the kill.
“Do you have a cigarette?” Lola asked. Eager Boy Joey chimes in with “Absolutely!” He reached into his top pocket and whipped out a Winston and Zippo lighter. Lola went outside for a smoke.
Scruffy Rick hadn’t shaved for days. He’s not humble as his rebel business model strategy is put to work. Upon Lola's return, the poon hound slowly advances delivering an opening line. “Hello there. That eye contact was unfair.” Showing primordial passion and desire, he asks, Lola,“ Drink?” She returned a delightful “Yes.” Things went fast, but not instant. However, when Rick wasn't looking, Lola spiked his Curaçao on the rocks with a roofie.
Dog whistles. The consummation didn’t take long. The following morning at a local diner, Lola’s act of romantic subjugation is now solidly etched into Rick’s psyche. Staring at Rick this morning: a smiley face breakfast plate framed in an egg-white background with two sunny-side ups. Nothing like it! Rick stabbed his target right in the eyes with a crisp toast triangle. The crying eggs oozed out orange puddles that spread across the plate. He swished his toast around in circles until the yolk disappeared and thought that tasted fine. Lola sipped on an Earl Grey tea and smiled. Little did he know.
•••
Have you noticed any barista cruelty happening at your nearby coffee shop? Zoe wore a dark wool cap pulled tight. Her coal-smeared eyes peeked out from underneath a tossed clump of dyed-black hair with chartreuse stripes. Her petite nose wrinkled while steaming milk for cappuccinos, Zoe would stare outwards into space as she transcended the barista spirit while pouring contemporary masterpieces. Her special talent provided something unique to the world. The creative foam toppings of cloverleafs, bleeding hearts and abstract expressionist twisty shapes on every drink was custom-crafted to suit each individual.
Coffee shop rule #1: You need to connect with every customer. Zoe appeared pre-annoyed when the store doors opened at 6:45 a.m. “May I help? Who’s next?” In walks a well-known worst offender. “I’ll ‘do’ a small latte with almond milk, five sugars.” When did the demise of the word “have” fall out of favor?
“Name please.” Naturally, a long-winded conversation ensued about needing extra room for coffee is a buzzkill.
“Sir, we’re rather busy now.”
“ I don’t care, I need a bigger pour,” he replied in an unpleasant tone.
“Now don’t be like that.” Zoe’s petulant scowl and mental anguish made a deep furrow between her bushy brows as she reached under the counter.
“Hey look, meet my boyfriends, Smith and Wesson.” A customer overheard the commotion and dialed 911.
Zoe hates her thankless job.
•••
Ann Ward remembered being 14 like it was yesterday. Afternoons were lonely. Growing up as a teenager without parents meant she had a lot of free time. Starved by boredom, she was raised by an aunt and uncle. Escapism allowed her to delve into the cosmic aesthetics of psychedelics. That proved to be a nightmare. Her lack of focus was responsible for quirky thinking in efforts to disguise spiteful mean streaks. There was lots of hating and blaming herself, not knowing why. What was known, Ann despised every single bone in Uncle Bill’s body. Why? In an unforgivable manner one day after school, Uncle Bill performed an aberrant salacious crime. “Ann, please come over here and sit down.” He abused her.
The day to kill Bill Ward had come at last. At the top of the stairs, Ann over-polished the wooden floorboards with extra bowling alley wax. It was unlikely an old man would sustain a fall from blunt head trauma. A slippery throw rug was positioned. You never know how horrible someone can be.
Using his walker upstairs, Uncle Bill stepped forward. All of a sudden, Ann appeared at the top of the steps. “Take a good look Uncle Bill, it’ll be your last.” Pushing him, Bill tried grabbing the bannister and lost his balance. The old man tumbled down the steps. Dead. First responders arrived. The police interrupted Ann’s hurried exit by the door. Officer Flynn made an unflinching request, “Wait a minute Miss Ann. We need to have a word with you.”
A murderess? Oh Ann, how could you?