Warning: Overuse Of Word ‘Thingies’ And Abuse Of Metal Midgets.

So after a failed attempt at sleep, my conscience drags me out of bed back to my Chem assignment. However, I decide that I want coffee. I’d already seen dad work that espresso maker like a DJ would. So, I head to the kitchen and stare at the tiny little metal beast and it stares right back at me, flaunting its chest – front piece – like a confrontational midget. I recall the image of my dad pushing some projection sideways, so I do that. After a little fumbling I get it right and as I run tap water on the coffee corpses from the last mug trial, the filter falls off. I put it back on, taking a bit of time till I found where the part goes in. Then, I find out we ran out of our favourite espresso brand, Lavazza. If I remember dad correctly, it’s practically impossible to make espresso out of anything else. Since I’m not god, I settle for the next best solution after creating me some leisure beans. And that is mixing em. I look for coffee and all I find is the plain old Turkish blend. I put some of that in, pat it with the weird projection patting thingie, and keep shoving the thingie back in but it wouldn’t stick! Took me a couple of minutes and spills to find out what goes where, then it’s finally intact. Then comes the punch line of the plot, the one that decides whether this is gonna be a light romance or a horror story. The knob. With the virtual mug middle-fingering me with a sarcastic twirl of steam. I look on to the signs and drawings and remember what my dad pressed and I do that. The machine starts howling. I panic. I pat it. It shuts up somehow. So I head up for the steamer, another projection which heats milk by blowing steam. After about four attempts of having it pee all over the place, it finally manages to spray properly enough for this not to work as a TWSS joke. I put the milk in a mug, making it big enough because I know how much of a klutz I am, and I shove the thingie in it. It starts to moan. “Eeeeeeeeeeee eeneeeeneeeneeee weee weeew weee eeeee eee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee neeeeneeeee prgh fot fot eeeeeeeee”. How come when I touch it it moans like a friggin cat in labour and when dad does it purrs like a helpless kitty? I panic. It’s dad’s baby. He’d slaughter me. Then as the moans ascend and the milk descends, all over my clothes, I burst into a fit of laughter, bringing my dad to the kitchen the sight of the espresso maker spraying hot water at me out of the place where I should’ve put the lock on the coffee pit and didn’t, out of the steamer and overall out of the metal midget which was halfway off the ledge preparing to attack me with my holding the mug in place halfway in the air, blowing on my right knuckles that got scalded by its ninja splash attack and using my knee to push it back in.

THEN

A stream of beautiful yet reluctant coffee drips out of the nipple like projections. Halfway into the mug, my dad takes over with the declaration that it’s not a cow. “And what the hell are you making coffee in the microwave?” He says. “Well I couldn’t heat the milk with this thingie because it kept wailing like a hungry three-year-old and I decided to save it and myself the agony”.

On dad’s cue to clean up after myself, I unlock the coffee pit to clean the filter only to have it spurt hot water at me like a friggin cobra! “OOOOOOOWWW you little sdflasdjf@#Jkhlo  ,,|,  AAAAAAH”.

The cappuccino tasted awful. And in case  you were wondering, the metamorphosis was right around the point where it was too light to be called espresso and too dark to qualify as anything else. I got scalded, multiple times, I nearly burned the coffee – and yes apparently that IS possible – the espresso maker almost imploded and I am now, as pathetic as I feel admitting it, officially scared of the damn thing! But I got coffee out of the coffee maker. :) Took me 8 months but I did. AND I AM AWESOME!

OH and guess what? After that last episode, dad promptly offered to make me espresso any time I feel like having one.

Oh yeh.