The Second Shot: A Shot Too Far

I love my morning coffee from my cafe of choice, but have become a little dissatisfied with the strength. A lot of milk going on, but not enough flavour. So I have been working up the courage to ask for a double shot (don't ask me why this is something that requires the building up of courage, it just is) and finally gathered the strength this morning.

My request was met with a baffled look from Ann, my trusty coffee-maker. I could see her little heart breaking. Had she failed to deliver? Was I not satisfied? Had I kept silent on this issue for all this time? Was I tempted to wander?

"Did you have a bad nights sleep?, she asked, searching for reassurance.

"Yes", I lied, and rubbed my eyes to make them water. I had slept like a baby.

"Is this change...for good?", she asked, her eyes pleading.

"I don't know", I said, "I'll have to see how this goes".

Gathering her dignity, she steeled her nerves and spoke icily, with a tinge of spite.

"That will be an extra 50 cents."

Needless to say, tomorrow I will be back to a single shot. It just isn't worth it. And besides, the extra hit did not sit so well with my tender little stomach, and made my mouth taste like wet dog for several hours. It's wearing off now, and only tastes like regular dog. With a bit of toothpaste there should only be a faint trace of puppy.