Damn You, Coffee Pot

With a heavy heart I must denounce a certain kitchen container, damn near a reliquary to me. Oh coffee-pot how thou hast let me down. The duties for which you were designed, and I request of you are simple and two fold; 1) you are to store my beloved nourishment of the morning (and occasionally afternoon), 2) you are to transfer your precious cargo to my coffee cup. In the former I find no fault in you. However, in the second you incessantly fail me. This is especially disappointing, seeing as how I perform most of the work in this task. It is a matter of teamwork, and you my friend, are slacking.

“What have I done to deserve you admonishment?” you may ask. Well, I’ll tell you. You constantly drip coffee all over the counter-top. You have a fucking spout coffee-pot. How is it that you cannot manage to channel a liquid from yourself to another vessel when you have I appendage specifically designed to do so? I ask of you very little, and what do you give me in return? A puddle, which I must wipe up for every cup of coffee I seek to enjoy. I realize you do not sleep, and therefore cannot comprehend how easily aggravated one can be upon his revival at dawn. I make excuses for you no longer. Fuck you coffee-pot, I will smash you. I will scatter your specular fragments upon hardwood and grind them to granular white powder beneath my boot. Please coffee-pot I beseech you, do not make me put on my boots first thing in the morning (by which I mean 8-9 o’clock).

I will not suffer you incompetence much longer.