Java Junkie - Coffee Confessions

When the onslaught of the sun burst through the slats of the mini-blinds onto my face, intefering with the sleep I had been maintaining, my first line of defense was to pull the blankets over my head. If I was fast enough, I could slip in a few more Zs. This morning, however, the solar blast had been too strong, ending any chance I might have had to resume the repose. Try as I might, I could not return to that darkened room. I never did hear the name of the woman, the statuesque redhead for whom I had been lighting a cigarette. I had introduced myself in the customary manner, "Bond. Point Bond." As the cigarette lighter fflared to life, the sun had struck my face.
I sat up, stretching what had been a finely chiseled physique, transformed into a gravity worn tired frame. As was my routine, I began in earnest my morning exercises by chanting aloud the actions, "One .. two .. up .. down. One .. two.. up .. down." Doubling my reps, I performed the same again, this time with my left eyelid.
My stop at the porcelain depository, preceded my agile shufling to the kitchen, running the gauntlet of dog chewies and cat toys. Knowing that a watched pot never boils, I prepared the ingredients for the concoction known in some circles as coffee. Also known as java and Joe, the brew has even been referred to as mud since it was ground this morning. It's defining ingredient, caffeine has been used as an aphrodisiac, a physic, and as an emollient. I don't know about its powers as anphrodisiac, but one should be awake anyway for that activity. I am pondering whether I would apply it to my skin, although it might make a mosquito's repast interesting. If a rose by any other name .. so it is with coffee. My personal sobriquet for the stuff is simply a "cup of ambition."
The bouquet wafting through the house, generates activity elsewhere. The stirrings beyond the kitchen morph into a relay race to be the first out of the gate. The recipient of the baton, the runner-up, is rewarded the luxury of taking it easy with no rush. The calico cat, already resembling a bowling ball with legs, is the first to arrive in the kitchen, meowing "Feed me." The thundering herd, comprised of the lab and the Rottie have bee-lined to the back door to be the first in line.
Seeking solitude, I left the kitchen to allow myself to be enveloped by my recliner. Remote in one hand, coffee in the other, I sought out the news of the world. A sip here and a slurp there conjured up a euphoric stupor. The world was a haze behind my closed eyes. I found the Astin-Martin parked where I had left it, but the redhead was nowhere to be seen. My catlike senses and reflexes were tested by an advancing figure from behind. "Dad, can you move your truck? You are last in the driveway." An agent must be prepared for any number of situations, many perilous, this one menial.
The first cup of coffee is the stimulant to help me awaken. Now the second cup, that one is the most important. There is no turning back, there will be no rest for the next twelve hours or more. The redhead will have to fend for herself until then. The adventure will resume again after this evening's first cup of coffee.....shaken, not stirred.
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No. 13
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Johnny Carson