My darling wife has one habit that just absolutely drives me crazy – and not in a good way. I hate to admit to it because to the uninitiated my peevishness would seem silly and trite. So, for a long time I haven’t said anything about it. But the day has finally come; I can’t be silent any more. Simply put, my wife is a coffee fiend.
I myself don’t drink coffee. Now, I personally have nothing against those roasted beans from the Rubiaceae family that have been dried, ground, expertly blended and then resuscitated with some steaming hot water. To me, the smell of coffee is one of the supreme aromas in the world – especially on a cold morning in the mountains, just as the sun is about to rise. But I have never developed a taste for the stuff.
Its not like I haven’t tried. I have attempted to develop a taste for coffee several different times in a variety of ways: this blend and that, with and without cream, with and without sugar. All of my stabs were without success. My attempts were out of a desire to display my love for my wife. She is such a coffee aficionado that she would love for us to be able to share a carafe on the back porch as we watch the sunrise. But, alas, I simply don’t like coffee. And, as it turns out, it is for the best.
At first, I thought that my wife’s addiction to coffee was just one of those innocent vices that all of us have in one form or another. But then I began to realize that there is a larger aspect involved. It is part of an alien plot to subjugate the human race.
Now, I know what you are thinking; I have taken a simple activity of my wife’s and turned it, somehow, into some sort of conspiracy theory. But, I have proof. And once I have laid out my case you will realize that you have seen the same things that I have seen – and hopefully you will join with me in the fight to eradicate this symptom of an evil empire.
The first event that aroused my suspicions occurred a couple of years ago. Early one Saturday morning as I was wandering through the house I did a double take as I glanced into the kitchen. In the semi-light of dawn I saw a gnarled, gnome-like creature huddled over the kitchen counter. Not being personally acquainted with any gnomes, I grasped that I had an intruder on my hands and quickly decided that action had to be taken. With my heart in my throat and my nerves on a sharp edge, I quietly eased my way to the hallway closet and grabbed a baseball bat. I then tiptoed to the kitchen, turned on the light and raised the bat, prepared to vanquish the intruder.
The figure in the kitchen turned slowly around – and I suddenly found myself standing face-to-face with my lovely wife.
“Good morning, Honey” she said as she gave me a little peck on the cheek. She raised her cup and cheerfully asked, “Do you want some coffee?”
Bewildered, I backed up a bit, rested the business end of the bat on the floor and nervously wiped the perspiration from my upper lip. “Uh, no - but thank you anyway”, I responded in my manliest falsetto.
“Are you sure? You seem so uptight. A good cup of coffee will calm you down.”
“You know I don’t touch the stuff. Besides, I’ve got some work to do” I countered, and beat a hasty retreat.
Over the next couple of days I reflected over my kitchen encounter and tried to make sense of what I had seen. Was it merely the result of an overly developed imagination working overtime or, frighteningly, were there sinister forces at work?
The answer came a few days later as I drove to work. Have you ever noticed that you can see the same thing day after day and then realize that you are really seeing that thing for the first time? That’s what happened to me.
I was waiting for the light to change. At that corner is one of those coffee joints that bestows long names on their products and then charges by the letter. The line of cars, as usual, snaked around the building and almost out into the street. As I sat there, I felt my blood turn to ice as I noticed the drivers waiting in the drive thru. They were huddled figures that looked almost inhuman. They clutched steering wheels with gnarled hands with long almost claw-like fingernails. They all had bloodshot, sunken eyes, protruding foreheads and wrinkled skin. And most of all, they had expressions reminiscent of Boris Karloff.
A horn blared from behind. I pulled through the intersection and as I passed the far side of the coffee shop, I looked to see what was coming out of the drive thru. My suspicions were confirmed as I saw the drivers coming out; they looked, well, normal – almost human; sipping on their cups of coffee with bright, cheerful expressions. I made the final two miles to work in record time and hurried down to the kitchen. I had to tell someone about my discovery.
The only person in the kitchen was my coworker, Dan (the names have been changed to protect the transmuted). He was busy tending to the coffee machine.
“Hey Dan”, I started. “Boy have I got something to tell you. Heh-heh, I just noticed that you need to get those nails of yours trimmed. And you might want to see your doctor about those blood-shot eyes. By the way, you sure do a great Bela Lugosi imitation!”
As I was trying to extricate myself from the kitchen, three creatures walked or, rather, shuffled into the room and past me in a stupefied manner. Their bloodshot eyes fixed on the brown life force that streamed from the machine and into the pot. They huddled together, rocking back and forth making hissing sounds reminiscent of the Sleestak in Land of the Lost. When the brew was complete, they and Dan filled their cups and began to drink. When they turned around, I was amazed to see three of my female co-workers. “Good morning!” they exclaimed cheerfully. Want some coffee?”
As you have no doubt deduced by now, coffee drinkers are in fact aliens that have taken human form. In order to maintain their masquerade as humans, they have to drink…well, coffee. And apparently some of them have to drink vast quantities to maintain their facade. They took their extraterrestrial form by drinking coffee in the first place; kind of like the pod people in Invasion of the Body Snatchers (only in that story they got “taken” by falling asleep). And to make matters worse, the aliens are out to convert the rest of us. Notice how they will almost always ask you if you want a cup?
Since my discovery, I have been very conciliatory towards my wife when it comes to satisfying her daily fix. I have been known to run up to the nearest fast food outlet on a Saturday morning to get her a cup. On Sunday mornings, we stop on the way to church to go through the drive thru to get the gourmet variety. And, I don’t mind. It’s the only way to keep the monster in the cage.