The coffee house was packed. People hustled and bustled, came and went; food was brought out and consumed, waiters left and new employees arrived. It was a dynamic scene constantly changing but for one thing. Two men sat in the corner, unmoved. They left at the last possible moment, then arrived the following day at dawn. One, a tall ascetic-looking fellow, glared across at the other, a portly man who stared at his companion with bearded contempt.
"I say that there is no such thing as God!" the thin man said.
The fat man rolled his eyes. "For the thousandth time Charles, I know, I've heard you and if I hear you again, I swear I'll tear out my beard!"
Charles twitched, briefly considering the service to society he'd be rendering if he repeated himself. "Don't tempt me, Jimmy boy," he said, wheezing out his odd, breathy little laugh.
Rajiv stared at the older man in confusion before understanding dawned. "You hear tha wheeze? That's God, killing you for your blasphemy," he said.
"I'm not dying you fool, I was laughing," Charles snapped. Rajiv's beard twitched as he tried to hide a smile. In truth, there was very little to smile about though. They had been sitting here now, for twelve hours straight, and they would continue to do so until their wager was over. Charles looked terrible, skin sallow and sagging, yellowing fingertips clutched at his coffee cup as eyes red and stressed from lack of sleep, glared. He knew he must look the same, if not worse.
"You bore me," Charles said, suddenly downcast.
"Your face bores me!" Rajiv retorted. He frowned as if confused, before his head drooped. "It's a sad day when I can't even render a decent insult."
Charles nodded. "How long have we come here for? I feel as though its been forever, and this is all there is to the world. Ever since that damn wager...," he trailed off, staring into his cup.
Rajiv leaned forward. "Prepared to admit it then? Just say that God does exist my friend and we can leave!" He was practically begging. "We can't leave until we find a way to reach an agreement, our honour won't allow for it."
"Then we shall die here!" Charles cried. Both men were silent for a moment, when a glimmering of an idea came to him. He sat up straighter. "That's it," he yelled, excited. His eyes gleamed fanatically. "The only way we can find out the truth is if we die!"
A waitress, hovering nearby, sidled closer. "I'm surprised either of ya are alive, you've drunk so much damn coffee," she remarked nasally. Neither man looked her way. She walked away, disappointed.
Rajiv was nodding his head. "You're right, old friend. I'm tired of this place anyway, let's go."
They walked away. "So, how shall we go about this then?" Charles asked. " A little poison in the tea, eh, but at a time when neither of us suspects. Oh it shall be a fine game of cat and mouse." He chortled. Rajiv shook his head.
"If you ask me, tea itself is poison," he said.
"Your face is poison!"
"Stop saying that!"
Having agreed on the method they hurried back to Charles' apartment. The next three hours were spent in heated argument about which poison to use, their varied effects, then what type of tea should be used, the varied uses of tea, its rising value on the market, but didn't communists use tea? A cat actually died of boredom during the conversation. Its passing will be mourned.
Charles went about preparing the tea, humming as he did so. He usually prepared Earl Grey tea but since it was to be his last cuppa, he decided on something a little bit more risque. He made herbal tea. He poured two steaming cups, then walked back to the living room. Rajiv accepted his wordlessly. Charles eased himself back into the plush chair, sighing. He stared at the cups of hot liquid thoughtfully.
"My throat is parched, surely it couldn't hurt to just take a quick sip?" he said suddenly. He brought the cup toward his mouth, licking his lips in anticipation. He took a long draught. At first, his face registered nothing but mild pleasure, but then he turned a nasty shade of green. His eyes bugged out, and his hands went to his throat. Moments later, he keeled over, dead.
Rajiv was left, staring open mouthed in shock, cup hovering inches from his mouth. He placed the cup back down. Meanwhile, the deceased cat's mate came a-looking for his lover. Finding her dead, he yowled mightily. Rajiv jumped up, terrified by the sudden noise and appearance of the feline. He turned just in time to see the cat spring for his face; his shrieks were intermingled with fierce meows, the equivalent of, "take that! and take this! and a little bit more of that!"
Rajiv stumbled backward, cat stuck to his face. Screaming, he tumbled out the open window, falling to his death.
***
Coroner's Report.
Name: Charles Britain
Age: 60
Gender: Male
Nationality: British
Nature of end: Death by tea.
Name: Rajiv India
Age: 55
Gender: Male
Nationality: Foreigner
Nature of end: Death by Cat.
***
Who was right? Find out in the next installment.
“I’m surprised either of ya’ll are still alive, you’ve drunk so much damn coffee,” she remarked nasally. Or something. Build beyond the stereotype! LOL.
