If you thought this is baby talk for copy cat, sorry, buddy but this is the word for profound intellectual conversations that happen over coffee, you kids could choose to call it CHATTING
Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love—is what kapi-chat declared about its coffee, as for the drinkers, or kapi-drunkards, over the second and third cups flow matters of high finance, high state, common gossip and low comedy, coffee is a social binder a warmer of tongues, a soberer of minds, a stimulant of wit, a foiler of sleep if you want it so. From roadside mugs to classic demitasse it is the perfect democrat.
Just step and you are in Déjà Brew
This day, at the Kapi-chat began with an irritated Terry Pratchett going ”Who shall I shoot? You choose. Now listen very carefully: where’s your coffee? You’ve got coffee haven’t you? C’mon, every one’s got coffee! Spill the beans.”
That annoyed Albert Camu so much, ”Should I kill myself or have a cup coffee?” he retorted. The room was already charged but Cassandra Clare, peeked over the City of Ashes which she was typing away and asked ”as long as there was coffee in the world, how bad could things be.”
There was something really wrong with the kapi-chat today, every one was high-strung and Abraham Lincoln, was so nasty he actually called out ”if this is coffee then please bring me some tea. But if this is tea, please bring me some coffee”
“what” I lowered my cup hastily, wondering maybe there was a stray hair, or worse a newly boiled bug inside my cup.
“You‘ve got to smell it first. It’s the proper way to drink a cup of coffee”
“cup coffee?”My indignation must have been visible.”Taste it.”
“What are you the coffee police or something?”
Justina Chen from North of beautiful looked surprised, and asked ”Come on, don’t you ever stop and smell the coffee?”
Raising the cup, with a smile on his face, Prince Tallyrand, played up to Justina, ”suave molecules of Mocha stir up your blood. Without causing excess heat: the organ of though receives from it a feeling of sympathy. work becomes easier and you will sit down without distress to your principal repast which will restore your body and afford you a clam delicious night.”
“haa! Coffee, the favourite drink of the civilized world.” said a soft all American voice. It was Thomas Jefferson, with his white powdered wig in place.
In a word, coffee is the drunkard’s settle brain, the fool’s pastime, who admires it for being the production of Asia and is ravished with delight when he hears the berries grown in the deserts of Arabia, would not give a farthing for a hogshead of it, if it were to had on Hampstead heath or Banstead Downs.