the true tale of quentin cappuccino

once upon a time, there was a girl.

as some girls and boys do, she had a habit of going to a job every day in order to earn money to fund insignificant things such as a roof (to put over her head), clothing (to keep her from freezing and/or burning), and food (to fill out the clothes and keep death from occurring).

occasionally, she would be more exhausted than she had any right to be, and it was in those times she would turn to some form of a substance known as 'caffeine' for much-needed assistance.

of late, she had not been imbibing much. on those rare occasions that she had, it was usually in the form of a small tin of iced coffee. enter Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown was both cheap and good, and also small and convenient. therefore, the girl had taken to carrying a can of Mr. Brown with her in her lunchbag, for emergencies. the discovery of Mr. Brown had proved a great boon to the girl, and was saving her much money that she might otherwise have spent on coffee at 7-11 or Dunkin Donuts. in short, although she did not partake of Mr. Brown on a regular basis, she was very happy with Mr. Brown, and a good symbiotic relationship was formed (in much the way that tired girls and decent iced coffee are wont to do).

one day, the girl was exceedingly exhausted on her way to work. as she hadn't done in awhile, she decided to try a new place which she passed often, and which always smelled incredibly good. no fancy coffee---simple small cafe au lait and she would surely be feeling much better-equipped to deal with her day.

but alas and alack, for this was not a union of girl and pleasantly hot caffeinated beverage that was meant to be, for when she chanced to use the shaker provided to sprinkle a teensy bit of cocoa into her coffee, the lid fell off.

SPLOOOSH!!! went the coffee.

AIEEEEEE! %&#*$&@#)@*)!!!!! went the girl.

and coffee was absolutely everywhere.

had the girl not been wearing her customary black hooded fleece (long-sleeved), her arm would probably have had a nice burn on it. as circumstances were, she merely walked around smelling rather strongly of cocoa and cinnamon for the remainder of the day. the girl cleaned up as much of the mess as she could, and then informed the proprietresses of the establishment of what had happened.

the proprietresses of the coffee establishment apologised profusely and provided the girl with a new cup of coffee, but the girl had learnt her lesson and learnt it well.

Mr. Brown is apparently a caffeinated beverage not to be trifled with. when one forsakes Mr. Brown, one ends up with cocoa and cinnamon and steamed milk and hot espresso all over one. never underestimate Mr. Brown.

(this message was in no way brought to you by the manufacturers of Mr. Brown, and is entirely a product of the high-pitched fevers regularly running throughout Janaki's brain. any resemblance to persons living, dead, undead, existing on other planes, spindled, mutilated, crushed, pashed or otherwise is entirely coincidental, excepting when it isn't.)

in other news, why's it already Sunday? ;.;