The Dalai Lama Orders Coffee at the Drive-Thru
“May I help you?”
“Yes,” the Dalai Lama yelled into the intercom, “give me a medium hazelnut coffee with extra cream and three Splendas.”
“Would you like a donut with that?” “No. I’m on Jenny Craig.”
“Please drive around.”
His Holiness steered his sputtering 1986 pink Civic to the window, where a woman wearing too much blush handed him his coffee.
“Hey, is this amateur hour?” the Dalai Lama snapped, pushing the coffee back at the woman.
“Sir?”
“Does this look like extra cream to you?” “That’s how we make coffee with extra cream.”
The 14th Incarnation of the Dalai Lama puffed his cheeks in frustration. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Sure, you’re Abe Vigoda.”
“Abe Vigoda!” cried the Lama, his car beginning to gurgle and smoke. “Is he even alive?”
With the blush melting down her cheekbones, the woman thrust the coffee back at the customer in the orange robe. “So, would you like your coffee or not?”
Eggplant-colored smoke bellowed from the hood of the Civic.
“No way,” barked the Dalai Lama. “I’m going to Starbucks.”
“Have an enlightening day,” smiled the woman.
“Screw you and everyone who makes coffee like you,” replied His Holiness, beautiful flamingo-pink flames now engulfing his car.