He wakes up from the deep fog that had been his sleep.
Joints crack, muscles complain and fire off warnings. He gingerly steps over the sprawling, snoozing canine.
His temples smart as if they were being used as part of drum solo by a washed up band trying to save their career by taping their show live at Budakon where apparently they will scream like Godzilla is coming for any crappy band.
The trip from the bedroom to the kitchen seems curiously long. He silenty curses that last "big ass beer" he ordered at the Mexican Restaurant. Who needs a gallon of beer in one glass? Especially multiple ones.
He makes it to the kitchen. All will be well once lovely beans from Central America hit the grinder and quickly are flooded with steaming water to magic the magic potion that is coffee.
He reaches into the ol' cupboard and....
HOLY MOSES GHOST! THERE'S NO FUCKING COFFEE LEFT!
Panic sets in. Soon his caffeine addiction will supply a new and even worse headache if not supplied the needed dosage of cafe'. Why did I have to move 10 miles from everything! Tragedy and dispair now set in.
Well, this is it, I'll not make it now, my life is in danger.
I call 911 but they are damned unsympathetic. Bastards. And I help pay their gawddamned salary! I think an ambulance carrying Starbucks to me would be a worthy mission of mercy myself.
Somehow finding the will to keep living, he, with the help of his trusty canine sidekick, crawl to the truck to find that "liquid of life" so badly needed. On the way he starts having flashbacks. He sees coffee stands in the shadows, but they are mere mirages. He struggles onwards and outwards, each click of the odometer bringing a more desperate moment.
McDonalds....Ok, they have coffee 'tis true. And I may be a man in the desert dying of thirst and all, but McDonalds coffee?
Suddenly the canine jumps up at full attention. "What is it girl?" he asks.
The loyal canine is staring at a building just off to the right as they continue their perilous journey.
"Cool Beanz" the sign says. "What the...?" ponders the poor man. The dog lets out a signal bark to the man that there is something at this place.
As they get closer the sign says this place has "specialty coffee and more". Coffee!!! And "More"!!! Eureka!
He stumbles to the door, barely coherent. He orders a robust cup of Kenyan origin and sucks down a heady sip of the dark, seductive brew. His body rebounds to life.
As he leaves the store the sky is bluer, the grass is greener, the birds are again singing, and all the women of the world want him.
What a difference a cup of coffee can make.
cheers.