This episode is also available as a blog post: https://smirkfiction.wordpress.com/2021/02/02/coffee-and-women/

Making coffee in the morning starts the day off right. It keeps my eyes open and the call to jump back into bed at bay. The addiction to the light hit of caffeine makes stepping on the cold floor worth it all once the warm taste of that beautiful bean juice hits my lips. I usually make a fresh pot of French Press every day about this time, but not today, today I need to venture out into the world to buy a whole new pack of coffee, freshly ground, and smoother than the black sea sand that the heavenly Lord Jesus stepped on.

Normally I see the world in a haze of brown glory. The liquid stimulate lubricates every crack in my skeleton and fills the vast dark unforgiving temperament that waking up at a time that others pass out at holding a bottle of the cheapest happiness. Everything in my body lustfully craves to drink my only pleasure, well almost everything, my tongue holds its reaction until the sack of life rest safely in my firm grip. At times I try to kiss my tongue after it finally connects to the coffee. The snobbish attitude my tongue feels towards coffee only stays on the quality of coffee, nothing else, not food, water, or women. A more discerning tongue might keep me out of trouble in regards to woman, but woman and coffee go great together, especially at breakfast or after a late night.

Coffee shops never need to worry that the internet might close them down, cute baristas keep the coffee world floating. Picking up coffee at the mail-box looses the entire experience of actually enjoying the coffee. A cute barista stands at the center of that experience. The only thing that wakes me up faster than a strong cup of coffee is a cute smile and a sweet face asking me about my coffee.