Coffee: TTTT

These stories are a part of a contest held by Terribly Tiny Tales. The rules said:

1. The stories have to contain the word coffee.
2. The stories cannot exceed 140 characters each.
3. There can be at most three stories per person.
4. The last date was the 20th of May, 2013 AD (which is the reason that I'm posting this today).

My Three Terribly Tiny Tales, then, were:

Story 1

He held her head down inside the tank full of milk. She struggled, but her body grew stiff soon.

"I told you I wanted my coffee black."

***

Story 2

The war was over. The victorious army killed, plundered, and raped. He took another sip of his coffee as the screen said 'Level 2 complete'.

***

Story 3

He gave the college belle the special coffee he had worked on for years. She took one sniff. They woke up at his place the next morning.

pepsi

I'm craving for pepsi right now. Not Pepsi, but pepsi. The ones they used to sell outside my school and college in long plastic tubes. The ones whose end you had to cut with your teeth and suck. The ones with long ice cylinders at their centre. The ones that used to cost 50 paise apiece (one rupee for my favourite milk-flavoured one). The ones whose thoughts bring me memories of my childhood and adolescence. The ones that have represented the best years of my life. The ones my parents always asked me not to have, especially since I had typhoid, but were so irresistible that I never cared to listen to them.

I'm craving for that pepsi. Where can I get one?

PS: And oh, why are they called pepsis?

Irish coffee

I love Irish coffee.

The Kolkata cafes possibly doesn't use whisky (or, as the Irish would say, whiskey) in theirs. I suppose you'd need a bar license or whatever for that.

I don't really care. Irish coffee tastes mighty good, even without the alcohol in it. The cream, whipped or not, crams the surface, never revealing the coffee beneath if you go for a bird's eye view. It's rich, black coffee of the highest order, and though you cannot taste what's lying beneath without touching the surface, it's worth the wait, trust me.

Leonardo da Vinci used to add another layer to his cryptic world: he wrote them on papyrus, and wrapped them around vinegar-filled glass vials before putting them inside the containers. If you smashed the container, the vinegar would dissolve the papyrus.

The Irish do the same. The moment you try to try stir it, force your way through to the coffee. The trick is to add sugar real slow, around the edge, so that the cream doesn't dissolve, and remains at peace, making friends with this new alien entity.

And then, you drink it slowly. The feeling is surreal. Since you've been good to the coffee, it would try its level best to fill your senses.

And once you're through, after a lifetime, or maybe a million years, you'd notice how transparent the container was.

*** *** ***

The alcohol, as I have mentioned earlier, is strictly optional, unless you're too keen to fall down on the staircases and bruise your elbow.