Acrid plumes of smoke belched from Miami’s burning skyline, obscuring a merciless midday sun. The Magic City warped into a diabolical funhouse reflection of its sunny marketing campaign as Mad Max shootouts raced through cratered avenues, mass human sacrifices took place in Tropical Park, and gangs of leather-clad abuelas jumped careless tourists because who the fuck would stop them? And to think, this all started at Versailles’ 8th Street ventanita.
Eusebio Leal, a 72-year-old Dominican man with a penchant for flirting with pretty waitresses, sidled up to Versailles’ iconic Calle Ocho ventanita at 7:30 in the morning and asked for a colada.
“Ay mi vida, perdón pero nos hackearon anoche y no recibimos nuestro envío de café,” replied the ventanita lady.
The color drained from Leal’s face as the full ramifications of the oncoming catastrophe dawned on him. Without skipping a beat, he punched a nearby yuppie in the face, jumped the counter, ripped an industrial cafetera from the wall, busted through the pane glass door into the street, and sprinted home. The news spread instantaneously via Radio Bemba, plunging South Florida into an escalating orgy of chaos.
Grocery store employees cleared Café Bustelo, Pilón, and La Llave from supermarket shelves in minutes. Lines stretched for miles around every cafetería in Miami. A government spokeswoman attempted to calm the growing collective panic by going on all local TV and radio station to explain that the Versailles hack hadn’t affected Miami’s strategic cafecito reserves. Unfortunately, she fell asleep at the teleprompter because—you guessed it—she hadn’t had her morning cortadito.
Meanwhile, the lucky few hoarded cafecito in jerry cans, plastic bags, rainboots, their own underwear, any semi-impermeable container within reach. One West Kendall man drained and then refilled his swimming his pool with pure Cuban espresso. He drowned after cannonballing in and immediately suffering caffeine-induced shock. What a way to go.
Unable to get their caffeine fix, people collapsed from exhaustion in their homes, offices, and on the street. Mayor Francis Suarez simply had to give a “Talk,” which quickly devolved into a tech douchebag nap session. An unfortunate Brickell wealth manager was stoned to death for the audacity of suggesting people just drink American coffee. All FEMA relief shipments of ground cafecito—whether by train, truck, or boat—were hijacked as soon as they crossed the Broward County line. One helicopter made it as far south as Hialeah before being shot out of the sky by a hail of chancletas.
And so, Miami burned while the world watched in horrified fascination. Upon investigating the source of this catastrophic hack, the FBI concluded the Versailles ventanita lady had simply forgotten her work terminal password.
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Andrew Otazo
'Miami Creation Myth' author Andrew Otazo has advised officials on Cuba policy, worked for the Mexican president, fired a tank, and ran with 30lbs of trash.
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