Arguing with Coffee

I've had occasion to mention the effects that caffeine has on Writers. I claim to be one myself, of course, so I've had my share of arguments with the beneficent brown brew.

So there I am, at my job, jobbing it up. I reached over and put one book on top of another. I took a sip of my coffee. I keep it in a clear glass mug until I'm ready to ingest it.

"How about some more?" Coffee said.

"Sure thing!" I said happily. This particular mug of Coffee had been made with the same quantity of grounds that sane people make a whole pot out of.

I swallowed the rest and put the mug down. I tossed a videocassette onto a shelf.

Then I smiled craftily to myself as I put a DVD down next to it.

"Wasn't that just a big satchel of fun?" asked Coffee in his manic, tittering voice.

"Putting that DVD down? Not, uh..."

"Eh?"

"Kinda, yeah! Whee!" I said, prancing. I could do this because I was alone.

"You know what'd be fun?" Coffee asked, poking me jovially in the ribs. I waited expectantly.

"You ought to go into the office and get a candy bar!"

"I'm following you so far. What next?"

"Nobody's there, right? No personnel left?"

"Place is empty as Paris Hilton's head."

"Then I suggest we go prance!"

"Yaaay!"

And so then Coffee and I go into the office where I pick up a candy bar and hop-skip around the empty cubicles.

"Well, Coffee, that was fun, but I have to get back to work. You know. Stacking some more things on top of other things before I put them into a bag. Wanna come with?"

"Nah. I'll meet you at home, 'kay?"

So with a smile on my feet and a song in my face, I go back to work. I put a romance novel on the top of a stack of them.

When I get home, I put the Buick I'm borrowing in the garage, and I can tell Coffee is waiting for me at home, because I drop the keys when I try to use them in the deadbolt.

"Ha ha!" Coffee says. "Let's party!"

I'm not in the mood to party, of course, since all the prancing I did at work delayed me, and I was there late.

"Can we not? I'd like to maybe write a post on the Blog, and maybe read some cats. Then...wait...did I just say 'read some cats'?"

"You sure did! Sounds like you're ready to stay up really late! Wanna organize your video game collection?"

"No."

"Come on. It'll be fun. And I've got good reasons you should do this, too. Allow me to enumerate: First, if you sit down and put your collection in a pile, it'll look nice and large. This will make you giggle inside."

"Sounds doubtful."

"Nah, wait. There's more. If you take all the games out of that little CD folder thingie, and put 'em back in the boxes they came in, it'll be inconvenient when you want to play one."

"Sounds like a really crappy idea."

"It is! But your friends will see them all in a row, and think you're prosperous. Perhaps presidential material."

"My friends aren't that stupid."

"Sure they are."

"Hey!"

It goes back and forth like this, with Coffee suggesting I stay up until 6 A.M. doing moron activities, like playing with the contrast settings on the TV.

"You could do some laundry too. That'd make you feel nice and industrious."

"I don't have any dirty clothes to wash."

"Then go out into the garage and fall down."

"..."

"It'll get your clothes dirty, and then you can wash them! Yaaay!"

"This is ridiculous. I'm going to bed."

Coffee does not want to hear this. In fact, this is the last thing Coffee wants. Coffee'd rather I explore the basement some more. Anything to keep me from going to bed so my kidneys can work on him.

Gotta respect self-preservation instincts, so to the basement I go with Coffee, and we vacuum all the little wads of lint out of the dryer. Coffee said it'd make the dryer more efficient, and that it would help protect some baby seals.

"Right then. Sun'll be up soon, and--hey! What's that over there?"

"Never you mind, Coffee. I have to go to bed, or I'm not going to wake up until 5."

"Pansy." Then, continuing in a lisping soprano, "oooh! I have to sleep so I can go harvest fairy dust from my wuss bushes in the morning! I might fall off my marshmallow stool while I'm brushing my unicorn!"

By now, Coffee has becomes sullen and abusive, and I have to shut him down with some aspirin or a boring book. If I wave a copy of Pride and Prejudice around, it stuns him long enough for my kidneys to sneak up on him.

It's bye-bye Caffeine Man until "morning,"when I open the fridge and smell that French Roast. Post-sleep amnesia has done its job admirably. I close the refrigerator door and think "Mmm! Coffee! That'd be real tasty right around 1:00 AM. I'll leave myself a mental note."