Horror Coffee Vanilla Drink

By: Jacob Lewis

I generally prefer my coffee as follows: Generic and bland with nothing in it, and served at room temperature so it can be consumed quickly and efficiently.

Today, however, someone left a package of vanilla flavored coffee in the copy room and I decided that I would see what all the fuss was over non-dirt water flavored coffee. I made it and took a nice big “what can go wrong” gulp.

Looking back at the experience, I can say that I’ve never had a more clear taste association in my life. I tasted something that was so exactly like something else that my mind could not process the similarities between what I had in my mouth, and my past experienced with this flavor. My thoughts fluctuated back forth between both things. Its like how a dog must feel when it eats its own feces, experiencing the flavor explosion of dog food, old hair and Legos while knowing that there is something different, yet the same, in their mouth.

This coffee tasted, not like dental fluoride, but exactly like the taste in your mouth after you leave the dentist. As in where, despite all the rinses and spits you can muster up before they finally force you to take their gown off and leave their building, you still have the taste of the sickening concoction of flavors they use to conceal the chemical tinge of everything they have been poring in your mouth for the last hour. One sip of this coffee and I was transported to that experience. My teeth felt sore, my stomach felt weak and I felt a pang of guilt in the center of my heart, as if I had just told someone, with all the sincerity I could muster, that I had been brushing and flossing twice a day, when I knew that I hadn’t done that in the longest time….I mean really the LONGEST time.

This wasn’t terrible coffee….no wait, bad start, it was terrible coffee. However, it was also a liquid rift in the space time continuum that transported me to another, far shittier, time and place. ¬†Is this what flavored coffee is like for everyone? Is there consumer demand for experiencing life’s little unpleasantries in liquid form? Now I’m concerned about trying new food. I’ve never had Pop! Popcorn before. If I eat it will it taste like the sweat and salty mixture of stale donuts and flop sweet that filled my mouth during the bar exam? Ive never had a Monster energy drink. Will it taste like sunscreen mixed with sand to create a memory from an excruciatingly hot boring day at a crowded beach? I’ve never had a Slim Jim before. Does it have that bitter taste of fear and adrenaline that comes when you realize that you’ve hit that hobo on the bus too many times with your briefcase and now he’s not breathing and you once again have to call up your connection who has that vat of hydroclor…..um….taxes….does it taste like taxes?

I eat food to forget my pain, which is probably a problem I should address at some point, not to be transported into some B-grade hell filled with my least favorite experiences. ¬†Anyway, the header on this particular essay is Vanilla Infused Coffee and the Dentist, two frivolities that I don’t recommend.

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