A local coffee shop in Bronxville. Most
people who
chill at Slave think they’re the center of the known universe, but they’re actually just a collection of
high school rejects that found a niche in a local coffeehouse. You can’t take a step in any direction without hearing a group of lazy, spoiled rich kids with the intelligence of 5th graders discussing politics. The money they buy that shitty coffee with is from their doctor parents. “Jet tea” is a fucking slurpee. There’s always a fucking line for the bathroom. People keep stealing the fucking chess pieces so all you can play is checkers, which is all anyone has the
IQ to play in there anyway. The people who work there have extreme attitudes, hey, kind of like the entire village of Bronxville itself, and Hitler moustaches should be as required as those lame ass retro
green slave to the grind shirts. It is reffered to as slave to the
cock