Coffee shops around the world have become overrun by hideous creatures known as writers. You know the type. They are found hunched over, sipping on their third cup of coffee, black. They wear sweatshirts with mustard stains, which we can only assume came from the cookouts they were forced to attend, yellow reminders of the most recent time they spent any quality time outdoors. They wear caps over unbrushed hair, advertising some odd vocation or vacation, such as writer or Maine. They hide like bedbugs in the comfiest chairs in the joint, lurking behind laptops, never making eye contact.

I, too, make fun of these literary oddballs. But this week, I was struggling with my column. I just needed to get out of the house, get a new angle. I pulled on my mustard-stained hoodie and walked to my local coffee shop.

I was typing away at a column that was going nowhere, when in walked a lanky redheaded woman in her early 20s. She looked like your average coed until she was greeted by a short man in his late 40s, who had been lurking in the back corner, head buried in a newspaper. They shared an awkward hug/kiss/handshake and then sat down at the table next to mine.

My interest was piqued. Anything to aid my procrastination. Was this a meeting with an estranged father? How scandalous.

The man pulled out a resume and said, "I hope you don't mind meeting me here. I know it's unconventional."

Just a job interview. Yawn. I was about to transfer my attention back to my column, when I heard him say, "So, how long have you been hookering?"

I nearly spit out my latte.

I kept my eyes glued to my computer screen, but my ears were firmly and acutely attached to the conversation at the next table. It went like this:

John: Hooking, is that what you call it? I mean, how long?

Prostitute: About eight months.

John: Good, good. Do you like it?

My thoughts: Yeah. It's what she dreamed of doing as a little girl.

Prostitute: Excuse me?

John: I mean, do you find the work rewarding?

My thoughts: Sure she does.

Prostitute: Sure I do.

John: Phew. That's a load off. Your resume says you're attending college.

Prostitute: I am.

John: Good. I don't want you to think of me as some weird guy that wants to pay you for sex.

You'd better pay her, because she won't sleep with you for kicks.

John: I'd like it if you saw me as a benefactor, helping you through college. Is that how you see me?

Yeah, sure.

Prostitute: Uh, yeah, sure.

John: Great. I think this is the best interview I've ever had. OK, now a little about me.

This should be good.

John: I'm married for 17 years. Yea!

Poor broad.

Prostitute: Congratulations.

John: Thanks. I'm pretty happy about it. But our love life has become a little stale.

Prostitute: You don't have to tell me.

The heck he doesn't! Keep talkin', creepy man.

John: I was hoping you could show me the ropes, maybe some new tricks, so I can satisfy my wife in new ways.

Gee whiz, ain't you the sweetest?

Prostitute: That's sweet.

John: Thanks. I like to think so. So, do you think you're up for it? Teaching me positions and stuff? And someday I'll tell my wife about you. I mean, I'm not a bad guy. I did this for her — and to help you through college. Maybe she'll be into it and want to join a threesome.

Yeah, that's exactly how that conversation will go down.

Prostitute: Maybe.

John: So can we test the engine and take her out for a spin?

Ew-w-w-w-.

Prostitute: Excuse me?

John: Sorry. I just mean, can you prostitute me now?

And they were off. And I knew I had to share this conversation with the world. My original column can wait till next week.

So next time you're in a coffee shop — surrounded by writers with their eyes glued to a laptop — don't jump to judge us. Sure, we may be socially awkward dreamers, believing we are one great script away from buying an island. But we also may be eavesdropping on an epic conversation that we then will write a column about. Maybe even yours. (Insert evil writer cackle here.)

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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