“For here,” Jerry replied.

It’s been obvious since Starbuck’s created a drink called “latte” that the world would come to an end. Order a “latte” in Italy and you’ll be handed a glass of milk. In Italian, “latte” means milk. Duh.

So, The raven-haired beauty working as the barista handed Jerry a true mocha latte: a tall cup of warm milk flavored with that mocha-flavored syrup. (At least the syrup is made in Italy!)

Ooops, I said the barista wouldn’t appear again until the end of the narrative, but it just seemed a little background was necessary at this point. Because, in fact, the world was about to come to an end.

Jerry–cardboard cup with a “sleeve” of mocha-flavored warm milk in hand–sat in the coffee shop. So there he sat, perusing the local tabloids and the ever-thinner local newspaper.

Blech. Warm, mocha-flavored milk. It reminded him of his childhood, when Jerry’s mom flavored milk with Bosco in order to urge him to drink it. After all, he was named after Jerry Mathers (“the Beav” in “Leave it to Beaver”) and in the late ‘50s, DRINK YOUR MILK was one of the most prevalent government-created lectures around. President John Kennedy had recently been assassinated, and the world was all a-flutter.

At least that’s what Jerry remembered as he pretended to enjoy his “latte.” He was too embarrassed to correct the barista, because he’d had a crush on her for so long. Besides, she was snarly, and clearly not having a good day.

The coffee shop began to fill up….and customer after customer ordered “lattes” and they–like Jerry–were handed cups of warm milk.

Milk? Not coffee? What was the world coming to? I mean, what’s next: Tarantino’s pizza topped with Velveeta instead of mozzarella? Jeesh.