Minky NaFluss is this week’s guest writer. He is a professional snob. He has offended so many people, even the Cray supercomputer burst a proverbial gasket trying to keep up. He has been banned from Bhutan thanks to his acidic comments about street signs.
It happened on my way through an airport. One moment, I was taking for granted that the contents of my morning breakfast table were reasonably safe - at least they would take years to kill me. Then I found out the truth, the truth about the horrors that lurk within our very own breakfast feasts.
I was in a rush to get to my terminal. Sorely in need of sustenance of a caffeinated nature, I stooped in to a Burger King. (How uncouth. How desperate.)
As bad as the “coffee” at Burger King is, it no where reaches the horrors of airplane coffee, especially in coach, which is where I would be traveling thanks to the ineptitude of my (ex)secretary.
I stared at the menu, which at Burger King includes huge photographic evidence. I imagine this is for its clients who find reading - and real food - distasteful. I reminisced about the last coffee I had drunk at Burger King, one cold dawn 25 years ago. I shuddered. I looked at the other options. Burger King’s “mocha” showed a drink with heaps of fluffy-fuff cream on top; it was drizzled with a dark substance that I assumed to be chocolate.
The mocha it would be. Overly sweet? Yes. Artificial chocolate flavor? Undoubtedly. But I would need something to cut the edge off of sludge Burger King refers to as “coffee”. As a general rule, chocolate can work wonders in that way.
I said to the cashier, “I would like the coffee/chocolate substance that you refer to as a ‘mocha.’ Please do not add any whipped cream.”
The cashier stared at me blankly. (Although, truth be told, it was hard to tell the difference.)
“Did you understand me?” I asked.
The cashier’s mouth found some functionality. “The mocha comes with whipped cream.”
“The photos do make that claim,” I said. “But certainly you can leave it off? The cream doesn’t come pre-glued, does it?”
“No, but the chocolate is put on top of the cream,” the cashier said.
“Can’t you drizzle the chocolate on top of the coffee instead?”
At this, the cashier looked terribly confused. I tried to clarify my statement.
Why must it all be so difficult?
“Must you drizzle the chocolate directly on top of the whipped cream?” I used hand gestures to help clarify my point.
“Certainly,” I continued, “you don’t need to place the whipped cream as a protective barrier between the chocolate and the coffee?”
“Do you?” I asked.
And that is when I realized the terrible, terrifying, shocking, life-altering truth.
Chocolate must NOT come in direct contact with coffee for fear that it might create an explosive combination that would take out the entire airport and half the surrounding metropolis.
That is the only possible explanation.
Oh, the horror of it all.
This could be you.
I tried to confirm my shocking theory with the cashier for she was, after an, an expert in permissible chocolate and coffee combinations.
She responded with a look of confusion. Apparently one needs special clearance to divulge this sort of classified information.
And so I left Burger King, saved by the skin of my teeth and without my dangerously volatile chocolate-and-coffee-chemistry experiment.
Before I let you go, some final words: We are living on the brink of extinction, you and I. Every day - and we don’t even realize it - we mix seemingly benign substances into highly dangerous fissile material, or so I learned at Burger King.
In comparison, sitting in coach doesn’t seem so awful.