“Smugglers?” Fritz said disgusted, “No, the term is music hoarder.”

“Okay, I get it,” Zooey said annoyed. Fritz turned the corner at the end of the block as Zooey followed. He lead her to what he promised was an ‘antiquated coffee joint’ in which he had somehow purchased for the both of them.

The coffee shop was no longer a coffee shop. Years of abandondedment and intermittant sun and rain, coupled with three generations of ravaging pigeons had reduced it to a dusty shrine.

“Whoa,” Zooey said in an exasperated tone standing before its glory. “Don’t tell me you bought this on ebay or something.”

“Do I look like an idiot?” Fritz smirked.

“This actually used to be a bar back in the sixties during the real days of Haight Ashbury,” he explained.

“Seriously?” Zooey said hopefully. “You know, if we get this place running, we can claim that Janis Joplin used to drink espresso here. People are dumb enough to believe anything.”

“Not sure about the espresso part though,” Fritz said.