“One pound. Colombian”

Coffee Addiction - 1 “Ground?”

“Yes, And another Argentinean.”

“I only have a half pound of Argentinean.”

The sweat started to bead on my forehead. “Just make the rest French Roast.”

“What about China White?” I retorted.

The clerk stared.

“Go wait in the car,” my mother responded as she reached into her purse to further fuel the addiction she had started many years ago.

I quietly turned and began to wade through a thick crowd of the most distinguished addicts I’d ever seen. Bloodshot eyes were fixated on the counter before them, each hoping that theirs was the next number to be called. Even as the their palms sweated and tensions ran high, there was an eerie tiredness to the room, as if they were all on E but their bodies continued to function.

Coffee Addiction - 3
The drug is stored in barrels on the wall, staring straight into the faces of their dependents. There they sit, waiting to be ground-up, packed and distributed throughout your neighborhood by the men and women who hide behind the counter.

We’ve all seen the damage the bean can do. You roll over one early Sunday morning to find your spouse’s body lying motionless next to you. Or maybe you lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling for hours, awash in the problems of your day. The dark bags underneath your eyes pay tribute to your morning ritual. The best part of waking up is fulfilling a big fat addiction and now it takes two cups just to get you to normal.

Law enforcement officials advocate D.A.R.E. while adorning the outsides of coffee shops, teeth stained with hypocrisy, abusing the drug, usually with donuts. Even teachers do not refrain from sipping their java in front of our children, leaving the old saying “Don’t do drugs and stay in school” to the wind.

Coffee Addiction - 2 Pounds are smuggled into your place of work by employees, so drug elitist colleagues can stand around and complain. Thermoses fuel addicts who can’t make it from Point A to Point B without the fix. Dealers are popping up on every corner, sometimes across the street from one another, each competing to turn our children into caffeine addicted zombies, turning over their hard earned money to buy a drug that funds smooth jazz and poetry. The rampant use of coffee has gotten to the extent that even the promise of the beverage has become synonymous with a more deadly killer-premarital sex.

It has so infiltrated our world that regardless of all the risks and repercussions, people return to fill up bags, week after week for years. The vice-like grip of the drug is rarely broken, and even those with strong enough will usually return to old habits after a long day filled with headaches, tears and words that are best left unspoken.

“You laugh now, but someday you’ll be here too.” My own mother’s words echoed in my mind as she condemned me to a life of addiction. And now, without the support of my family and loved ones, how could I not? A man is only as strong as strong as those around him, so I know my way around the cup.

5 Responses

7:46 AM on December 13th, 2006deshawn freemen:

i got dat white girl!
10:00 AM on December 13th, 2006radman67:

right on dude!!!
i like coffe’ also$$$$$
peace
3:04 PM on December 14th, 2006Jose:

Coffe go!
1:08 PM on December 21st, 2006Andy:

THIS DUDE RETARDED
2:22 AM on January 5th, 2007D-R0LL3:

MAYN3 1Z U TALK1N B0UT C0F33 0R 1Z U TALK1N B0UT YA1Y0?!?! 1 B C0NFUZZL3D MAYN3….