Yet another absurdist story in which I, the tea addict, engage in a vigorous battle with a coffee addict.
I dodged a stream of poisonous coffee and backflipped to escape the coffee-bean beetles crawling towards me, hissing and droning viciously. I cocked my tea-pot twice and faced my foe. I reached for the ginger peach tea bag fastened on my belt, preparing to fire and engage my opponent for a second round. While I ran to avoid the obnoxious insects, I splashed the rest of the oolong tea upon the coffee-beans, which scattered and dispersed to escape from the hot liquid pouring towards them with the speed of lightning. It wasn’t a pretty sight, as some coffee-bean bugs got caught in the oolong tea and the stench of death rose up from their liquefied bodies, a few legs still twitching with their last angry kicks.
“What does a tea-addict say to plead for mercy? ‘Leaf’–”
Under normal circumstances I would have ignored him and just commenced with my attack. I favoured ending things as quickly as possible. I was that kind of girl.
However, at the moment I desperately needed more time for my water to boil. One minute until the ginger peach tea was ready. Honestly I did not expect to exhaust my preliminary defense tea bags so early in the game. I faced a formidable fighter known for his Expresso in combat–who easily survived bags of dragonwell, red lavender, and chocolate chai. If ginger peach failed to do the trick, I’d probably have to take out the big guns. I might have to open a few packs of freshly harvested herbal tea and maybe even earl grey. The thought annoyed me immensely.
I decided to stall, so I asked him: “What does a coffee addict say to admit defeat?” I retorted, which was to waste time, of course. I stared at my enemy, a pale, fidgety man with bloodshot eyes, which had a hollow and caffeinated look in them. He lined his armour with coffee beans grown by the legendary Coffeena, the High Priestess of the Order of Coffee. The best of the best, and was said to be impenetrable, like Bilbo and later Frodo’s mithrill armour.
“What?” he gritted his teeth. “What does a coffee addict say?”
“Nothing. Defeats comes too quick for realization to take place,” I knew he’d take the bait. He was a pompous fool.
“That’s not even clever! It’s not even a pun!”
Apparently enraged, he snarled and took out his infamous expresso bombs and aimed at where I stood.
I smiled as the timer on my tea-pot clicked.