Pavel approached the counter of the Coffee Pub for his morning caffeine fix. It was January first and this was the only place open.
“Happy New Year,” chimed the chipper barista. “What can I get for you?”
Pavel shot the barista a patronizing glance. “I don’t believe in new year. I’m Discordian,” he scorned.
The barista responded with shock. “Then, happy new calendar day?”
“Calendars are a construct of humanity arbitrarily imposed on the universe. It is neither a new year nor is there the necessity of a new calendar,” said Pavel.
The barista struggled to find a response. “Just coffee then?”
“Grande carmel macchiato.”
“Names are also an arbitrary construct. They serve no useful purpose,” said Pavel.
“They do if you want the right coffee,” said the barista.
“I concede your point.”
“Write on the cup ‘Malaclypse the Younger’. That’ll suffice,” said Pavel.
“How do you spell ‘Malaclyse’?”
“It doesn’t matter. Do you think you’ll forget me?”
The barista rolled her eyes. “No chance of that happening.”
Pavel paid for his coffee then sat at a table and waited.
After a few minutes, the barista place a cup on the counter. “Malaclypse, your coffee.”
Pavel grabbed the cup, then tossed it in the garbage.
The barista was flabbergasted. “What’d you do that for?”
Pavel sneered. “That disorder for you.”