When done right, a cup of coffee doesn’t just provide a needed kick. It’s a much-deserved escape into the hills of Colombia or the jungles of Tanzania. When done right, it’s something to appreciate. I’d like to tell you about the place I got when only the best cup of coffee will do. Maybe you’ll stop by one day. It’s a small place, nothing special. But it’s comfortable and quiet, and it smells great. Just one thing. It’s not in New York. It’s not even in Brooklyn. That’s right. My favorite coffee shop is in my head.
You see, at this coffee shop, the beans are always fresh roasted and the service is with a smile. And topless, because all of the baristas are budding porn stars. (Not the kind who are jaded or worn down, either.) The chairs at my coffee shop are plush, vibrating and enveloped in gold leaf that rubs off on my clothes. Then I brush it off, collect it in a small pile, and use it to buy things like a Monster Truck or a Light Saber, or other stuff they sell stuff right next to the biscotti. There is always a live band, like Aerosmith, but the ‘70s version when they really rocked. And they’ve been shrunken down to the size of Pez Dispensers so I can put them on my table and threaten to flick them off the edge if they refuse to play Sweet Emotion again.
My favorite coffee shop has a shooting range in the back so I can let off some steam. Only instead of shooting at targets, I’m shooting at robot clones of the people I hate most in the world. And when I need more ammo, little penguins bring it to me on silver platters. They might even be puffins, or any other kind of bird that looks like it’s wearing a suit, I’m really not sure and that’s not the point.
The point is that everyone should have a favorite coffee shop and appreciate every single cup of coffee they have. So next time you want a tall cup of joe or a voodoo doll or some opium or to host a daytime TV talk show interviewing dogs, come on by. I’ll be at my table, listening to miniature Aerosmith and enjoying my latte with a smile, trying to eye the topless baristas through my sunglasses without them catching me.
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