Folgers Falls

by

George R. Lasher

word count: 700

After tossing and turning all night, I got up an hour earlier than usual. Well, at least I'll get to work early, I figured. Maybe I'll have a little peace and quiet before the rest of the crew rolls in. My rough night became a rough morning. Two wrecks created backups that ballooned my commute time from a relaxing forty, to an irritating hour and twenty minutes.

Slumped over at my desk, I had just brought up my emails when I heard, "Hey Georgie Porgie! Let's go get some coffee, old man!"

So much for the peace and quiet. I winced at the early morning burst of energy and enthusiasm from my young buddy, Mark. I love the guy, but Geez, Louise! I grunted with the effort it took to pry myself from my chair. Grumbling, I followed Mr. Go-Getter down the hall for our obligatory morning ritual: a cup of coffee and his "thrilling" account of playing tennis, or hitting the bars, or whatever he did last night. God forbid he should ever have to spend a quiet night at home.

Reaching the break-room we discovered no one had made coffee. Personally, I don't get an eye-opening burst of energy from a cup of coffee. I'd have been just as happy to grab a Coke Zero, but "Zippy" wouldn't go for that.

"Gotta have my go-juice!" he insisted.

Dutifully opening the drawer filled with shiny, red packets of Classic-Roast, Folgers, I took two. You have to use one-and-a-half, because using one results in a pot that looks and tastes like dirty dishwater, and two is like, "Whoa! Way too strong." These little packets have a peel-open feature that for me, rarely works, so I just pull them open at the top, from the middle, using a little muscle.

"What are you doing?" Mark blurted out. It sounded more like a challenge than a question. "That's not how you open those," he warned. "Coffee's gonna go everywhere."

"No it won't," I replied, annoyed by his inference that I didn't know how to make coffee. "I open them this way all the time."

As if a spell had been cast, the packet burst open, sending a spray of finely-ground coffee into the air. Mortified, I stared down at one cuff of my white dress shirt, dusted with a powdery layer of the mountain-grown stuff.

"See?" Mark gestured with I-told-you-so glee as I brushed off my cuff. "Let me show you how to make coffee without making a mess." He snatched the opened bag out of my hand. After dumping it into the trash, he grabbed a replacement and a filter from the drawer while I stepped back, allowing the young master to teach me how to do something I'd been doing for forty years.

"You'd think an older guy like you would be able to do something as simple as this." He peeled the red bag of Folgers open, tearing it in the same way that never works for me. "You have to wash out the thing that holds the filter and the grounds," he added, doing so as he spoke. "Then you wash out the pot."

He held it under the faucet, swishing the water around in it, dumping it out, and then repeating the process until the glass pot appeared to be clean. "There," he proclaimed, setting it on the counter. "Now we're ready."

He pushed the "brew" button on the coffee maker and turned towards me. The gurgle of water trickling into the filter basket provided background noise for his condescending lecture. “It's easy if you just follow the directions on the bag,” he smirked. "You old guys assume you know everything. That's why you screw up. Me?" He pointed towards himself with his thumb. "I pay attention to detail."

"Uh, Mark..." He would have rambled on, had I not interrupted. I nodded in the direction of the coffee machine.

Mr. Attention-to-Detail forgot to place the pot back on the burner. A vigorous stream of freshly brewed coffee poured straight down, directly onto the circular burner, splashing over the raised, rounded edges and onto the counter before cascading to the floor.

For a change, our morning coffee ritual proved to be a real eye-opener. "Oh look!" I chuckled, already feeling a surge of energy. "Folgers Falls."

THE END.

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http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/georgerlasher.htm
http://www.amazon.com/Falcon-His-Desert-Rose-ebook/dp/B005UD7R1C/ref=tmm_kin_tit...

Although you can't actually walk into a book store and find it on the shelves, The Falcon and his Desert Rose is available online from Barnesandnoble.com and many other websites.

Kindest regards,