Pangloss and Sab meet at Starbucks

Two very different customers order their coffee at Starbucks: 

PANGLOSS: I’ll have a double mint mocha decaf latte with whipped cream and a shot of hazelnut.

SAB:  Just a regular coffee.  Black.  No sugar.

Hungry for company, Pangloss attempts to strike up a conversation with the rather dejected-looking gentleman behind him in line:

PANGLOSS:  Yes, indeed, isn’t coffee great?  Just think about it: coffee was made to be poured into cups, and sure enough… we have cups!

SAB:  And the heart?  The heart was surely made to be broken, for mine is in a million pieces.

PANGLOSS:  Yes, if a heart can break, then it was surely meant to be. But it only breaks because we love so deeply and our love goes unrequited. So… in fact, that is a good thing, for who can argue that being deeply in love is not a pleasureable thing?

SAB:  Not for one who has no hope. It is a burden for those of us who are slaves. Slaves in every sense of the word. Only our minds are free to think what we will, but that in itself is also a curse, since it makes us dream of that which we so ardently desire but which we can never possess.

PANGLOSS:  My good man, you do have a point there.  But in saying so, you have also stated the solution to your problem: you must only desire that which you can have.

SAB: And what, pray, would that be?

PANGLOSS:  Regular coffee.  Black.  No sugar.

SAB:  With a shot of arsenic?

(sound of thunderbolt striking roof of Starbucks)

PANGLOSS: Well… in that case, add some sugar. Sugar was made to sweeten things, and sure enough, we have bitter things in life to which we can add sugar.

SAB:   Incredible!  I would never have imagined that anyone could make suicide seem like such an enticing option.  Think of it: millions of grains of sugar are produced on these plantations thanks to the back-breaking labor of my people, toiling under an unrelenting sun that pierces an azure sky, a sky that surely extends all the way to Heaven. Within the infinite sea of sweet granulation that pours forth continually, perhaps a grain or two can be spared for a humble mulatto slave.

Sab continues to elaborate on the details that led him to this point in his life, with Pangloss nodding all the while in sympathy…

PANGLOSS:  (anxiously interrupting)  And so now you can see that this is the best of all possible worlds: all human beings are created equal, and to each is accorded his or her grain of sugar. (slight pause) Now, not wishing to change the subject, but… what about that friend of yours… er, Teresa? Do you believe she would be interested in a lesson in experimental physics?

Sab, not knowing how to reply, suddenly spies a sign hanging on the wall next to them, and a faint smile creeps over his face as he reads the words: