Yesterday, I went to my favorite local coffee shop on the corner of Hazel and 44th. I studied for my math midterms all afternoon. At about 4 p.m., a homeless man entered the store. I could tell he was homeless because he announced it when he entered. He also announced that his name was Josh. Josh held a Super Soaker in his right hand and half a strawberry muffin in his left. I could tell the muffin was strawberry because Josh said it was strawberry when he offered a bite to the lady sitting closest to the door. After she politely declined, Josh marched to the front counter and demanded all the muffins behind the glass be placed in his backpack. He also requested a vanilla latte (nonfat) and a thermos full of black coffee. The barista, misunderstanding the situation entirely, told Josh that the total would be $34.29. Josh nodded at the Super Soaker and then nodded at the barista, indicating that this was indeed a stickup. Still confused, the barista asked if Josh would be paying with cash or card. At that, Josh’s patience for the bewildered barista ran out. He unloaded his weapon, snatched the muffins, and sprinted for the door. As he left, another gentleman entered and approached the front counter. The barista was crying (but it was hard to tell because mostly the barista was soaked with stolen hose water. I have good eyesight and am good at reading body language, so I could tell that the barista was crying). The gentleman who approached the counter pulled out a real gun and told the barista to put all the money in his backpack. Sniffling, the barista asked aloud if there were hidden cameras in the room and if this was going to be on TV. The gentleman took this as a sign of resistance and fired one shot at the espresso machine. I pulled out my phone and started recording (and thought to myself how dumb I was for not doing so earlier). Now on the floor, the barista shouted out to the gentleman to take it all and help himself to the safe in the back. The gentleman yelled at everyone in the shop, telling them not to move or call the cops. He headed to the back. Once he was in the back room, the barista got up and slammed the backroom door shut. Playing the hero proved to be an unwise choice because the gentleman shot through the door, hitting the barista in the shin. With a backpack of money (it couldn’t have been much), the gentleman robber fled the scene. Soon after, the cops arrived. After giving my statement to the cops on the sidewalk outside, I snuck back into the coffee shop to fill out a comment card. Hire smarter baristas was all I wrote. Then I went back to my dorm room to finish studying.