The Dark Lord

I don't think there are too many of us who haven't experienced that moment of clarity when we ask ourselves, "How did I end up here, or how did I get into this situation?" You may be sitting at a desk suddenly realizing that this job was only supposed to be short term yet there you are, five years later. Sitting in your living room wondering, "Am I really dating someone who collects Bee Gees memorabilia?" Or finally collapsing on the floor, weak from the physical and emotional exhaustion that comes with removing the "husky" label from your pants and replacing it with "large."

Such was my moment of clarity earlier this week. I swore it couldn't happen to me. I knew in my heart of hearts that my destiny lay along a different path. But somehow I found myself in his clutches. I see him and I kneel. I stretch out my hands to pay homage. He is my master. The Dark Lord. Coffee.
What started as a harmless cup of bitter pick-me-up at the lair of the Dark Lord (Starbucks) has now turned into full-blown servitude. Each morning he greets me as I rise and summons me close to his bosom.



I dare not disobey him, my muscles quiver at the thought of missing a cup! My eyes well with tears as he coolly explains the groggy sleepiness that will descend upon me if I deny him! He cackles behind stained yellow teeth and bitter pungent breath as I move from tall to grande to (shudder) venti.
Now he commands me to conjure it at home. He ordered me to purchase a new coffee maker with programmable features so it can beckon me from my slumber and my day will begin underneath his black cloud. The Dark Lord mocks my brewing technique. "Incompetent Fool! Your carafe is full of bitter brown water. But we both know you will drink it all down anyway my pet! Bwahahahahaha!" I sob as his prophecy is fulfilled. I gulp down the rotten goodness and because it's early he demands I fill another cup! I am powerless!

Each night as I lay in bed I tap Morse code to our unborn child, warning him to fear the Dark One and flee from his hypnotic message of "I smell great but taste awful." I would confide in Samantha but she too was lost long ago. Her allegiance lies with the Black Knight, Coca Cola. Sometimes in the dead of night we can hear them laughing for they know that tomorrow is another day in their service. Sigh.