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Lady Burns Tongue Sampling Coffee in B&B Tasting Room, Acts Like it Fine When it Not at All

Updated: Aug 16, 2020

The Impotent Satyr

Woman has wide eyes, standing in the Batdorf and Bronson Tasting Room.
"My life's regrets are many, but none compare to this hell to which I've subjected myself."

Emilia Easton, fresh out of the bee hive that is the Olympia farmer's market, scuttled her caffeine-dependent legs over to the Batdorf & Bronson Tasting Room to sample some coffee. Ms Easton weighed the options on display, at last settling on half a Dixie cup full of Perro del Fuego. An image of a happy dalmatian in a firefighter helmet popped into her head as she felt the soothing steam warm her face. For safe measure, Emilia blew on the hot liquid a total of three times. The paper cup was then ever-so-slightly tilted to allow a meager amount of coffee into her mouth.


And then the dalmatian angrily bit her tongue. Hard.


"Do you taste notes of pine harvested from a Costa Rican child's dresser sock drawer?"


Emilia nodded her head. "Yeah, it's good." It was a bald-faced lie; she could taste nothing, and her tongue throbbed in agony.


"You should also be getting hints of Tian Shan mountain range gravel," the barista sold, touching her thumbs to fingers and pedaling her hands in emphasis. "Bits of egg shell (the color, of course), citrus shampoo trapped and stewed under an Alpine sheep wool beanie wrapped around a school-bound teenager's head, and cherry."


Emilia didn't want to drink more of the boiling hot beverage, but she'd already shown the Batdorf & Bronson employee that it was at a drinkable temperature for her--there was no going back now. She took another sip and disguised her subsequent audible groan as humming, turning it into a happy tune once the pain died down to a tolerable level. "Yeah, the notes--I can taste them. They're good. It's good." She smiled through the pain, but her eyes deceived her, giving away everything to the barista. Emilia purchased a pound of coffee beans and hurried out the store exit.


"Look," the barista said to her coworker once the door had fully-closed behind Emilia, "I made her cry." She motioned to the live security camera feed which currently displayed Emilia collapsed on the sidewalk, her hands shaking violently with tears streaming down her face. "I get all the tips today."


Her coworker scoffed. "You always get the tips."

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