Long spends about two hours each day at the Tasty, skipping class to hang out and smoke with other patrons.

"It feels like home and the people are so nice to me," Long says, brushing back her dyed, fire engine-red hair.

Long slowly turns her lip ring and shakes her head in disbelief.

"I'm very upset," she says, puffing on a cigarette. "The stupid corporate fascist assholes come here and just take away my home."

Long looks down at her maroon Doc Martens, shrugs her shoulders and sighs.

"This really old guy named me 'Cricket' because I'm always happy, always jumping around," Long recalls. "Not anymore."

Tony, 18, sits on a stool next to Long, whose legs are interlocked with his. With long brown hair flopping over his eyes, he looks very much like the cool high school graduate without a job--and not in the job hunt.

"I've got all my life to work so why start now?" Tony says.

Between slow, deliberate sips of coffee, Tony thoughtfully identifies the conversation as the most alluring aspect of the Tasty.

"This is the only place where you can talk about geopolitical issues in Bosnia and kinky sex and hard drugs with everyone from bums to Harvard kids," Tony says.

"There are people who walk through these doors who make nothing in life," Tony says, pointing at a homeless Tasty patron. "There are others who make millions. And they are all welcome here."

The Tasty is one of few locations in Harvard Square whose doors never need the "Sorry, We're Closed" sign (Store 24, Christy's and Kinko's are other notables).

When the bars around town close, people begin trickling into the tiny establishment at 2 JFK St.

"Where else can you get a burger at 2 o'clock in the morning?" laughs Robert Marshall, who works across the street at the Harvard Book and Binding Service.

"If you had $5 left, you could get a hamburger and fries and still go home with $2."