The blacker the coffee, the crazier the afternoon

Each morning that I arrive at the office, I make a pot of coffee to help me navigate my way out of the cobwebs and into productivity. We have a super-fancy Bunn Coffee Maker at the office that makes a mean cup-o-Joe and generally, before anyone else arrives at the office, I’ve got all the liquid consumed.

Sometimes Pierre will show up also needing a pick-me-up and he will make another pot that I help him consume. Pierre normally likes to make the coffee a little bit stronger than myself, but then he only drinks a cup and I finish the pot off adding to my addiction.

Some days, however, at around three in the afternoon, Pierre decides he needs a little more oomph as things get a little hectic at the newspaper office and when Pierre makes one of these “late in the afternoon pots of oil” things tend to get weird (and wired) in a hurry.

The coffee that my Sports Editor makes is so strong that you could follow a gulp with a shot of whiskey and the whiskey would down like ginger beer. It makes my stomach feel as though I’ve swallowed a bowling ball, it makes my eyes bulge like Marty Feldman and I think – after just taking my latest drink of it – that is has singed most of my nostril hairs.

When Pierre and I start into one of the pots of blackness, things get strange in a hurry. We each bellow back and forth in our Best Si Robertson impersonations -- Duck Dynasty fame -- and feed off of each other’s caffeine-induced hysteria.

“Nice job, Jack!”

Maybe I am exaggerating. I am already a cup deep into a pot of coffee made by Pierre and though I can no longer feel my legs and my heart is clocking in at 120 BPMs, I seem to be progressing well with this column. There are little spots now appearing all over my computer monitor (whoops, the spots are turning into Aztec Temples and bumble bees) but I am nearly to the end of the column and it all makes sense, right?

Oh Boy! Now Deb just gave me some KitKat candy bars. I ate one. I think my left ear just fell off.

Good grief, this is getting weirder than usual.

I don’t want anymore of this vile, muddy water, but it is calling me ...begging me to drink more.

Can you hear it? The coffee?

There it is again.

I think I am going to go hide in the trunk of my car.

No more Pierre coffee for me.

Thanks and Aloha.