The Science of Coffee

Ted Harrington, a student at Nottingham University, decides that he does not want a career in Molecular Biology. He decides that he wants to start his own business in coffee making. However, a rival coffee business strives to take him down, which leads to endless coffee bean induced conflict.

 Beep. Beep.

 8:34. Another sixteen minutes of sleep. That'll do.

 Beep. Beep.

 Yes, yes.

 Beep. Beep.

 Oh for goodness sake...


 Oh pants! Pants!


 This is my usual routine for a Wednesday morning.

 I'm Ted. This story is, apart from my story, completely ludicrous. Out-of-the-ordinary, mad! I find it hard to believe myself at times. Anyway, that you just read, about the morning - that was the morning that this story begins. The morning that the story begins, I call it.

 After realising the time, I leaped from the covers. Literally, like a metre into the air or something. Leaped. I showered, then got dressed into my shabby suit jacket, shirt, dicky bow and slipped into some trousers. Underpants, too. I almost forgot my socks, but I went back. I just happened to pick up the most brightly coloured pair of socks I own.

 I ran across the hall, tie flying into my face, obstructing my vision and almost causing me to fall several times. Turns out the window was open, which is why it was so bloody cold and windy. Oh, I didn't tell you that. It was bloody cold. Like that parody of that James Blunt song. Anyway, I ran across the hall into the kitchen.


 I opened every cupboard, every drawer, even the fridge. Where was it? We have tea, lots of it. Herbal tea, green tea, yorkshire tea, honey tea, lemon tea, every bloody tea there is. But no coffee. Not even a single granule.

 I uttered to myself, "Damn, Damn, damn, damn," as I looked in the cupboard beneath the sink. Finally, I found a small box reading:

 Colombian Medium Ground Coffee, 227 grams.

 Why in holy pants name do we have Colombian coffee?! We've never been to Colombia!

 Oh, by we, I mean me and my flatmates. Migel, a Spanish student studying Political Science and Rosie, a girl I rather liked who was an art student. It was usually Migel who went shopping, so it would be him who I would usually shout at for not getting the right coffee. But Migel was visiting Brazil, so it must have been Rosie who bought it. I wasn't going to shout at her though, perhaps just a serious discussion. I made myself a cup, and drank it as I walked out. It wasn't too bad, actually.

 I felt stressed at the thought of not getting some coffee this morning, so too calm myself I bought a coffee from Starbucks.

 I had just finished my thesis for science, and had to hand it in. Returning from Starbucks I was suddenly swept away by a crowd of coffee beans. I mean, people. The briefcase holding my 400 page thesis was knocked from my hands. It clicked open as it hit the ground, and I saw the pages of my thesis flutter away.

 "No! No, no, no, no!" I cried, trying to retrieve pages that were flying away. "Bugger!" I said as I scrambled together the pages I had collected and shoved them back into the briefcase. Suddenly, I felt something bite onto my trousers. I gave a comical cry as I turned around too see a small dog tear at my trouser leg. "Off! Get off!" I kicked at it. After the dog had been taken away by it's owner, I rushed to the front seat of the car before anything else could happen.

Bloody hell.

The End

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