I sat slowly and placed the cup before me, analyzing it with intensive perlustration. Immediately, I noticed that it was a tall blue ceramic mug, rather than the usual white and green recycled fibrous carton. Very strange, I thought to myself. I had the gnawing sensation that I had seen this mug somewhere before. Perhaps it was not the first time they had given me ceramic rather than cardboard. Very generous. Next time I would have to leave a bigger tip.
Another passing family member watched me warily, and said, “That’s orange juice.”
“Quiet, you moron!” I hissed. “I’m on to something here.” They rolled their eyes skyward and floated away, mumbling something that suspiciously sounded like ‘idiot.’ I made a mental note to question them first in my investigation, and returned to the task at hand.
After another tentative sip, I noticed that the concoction had a bit of a ‘bite’ as it slid down my esophagus. Alarmingly, I glanced inside the mug, worried that perhaps it had been laced with some kind of coffee cloaked acid. The color itself was quite unusual, a vaguely translucent orange rather than its usual muddy brown. Maybe they were using a new coffee bean? Nowadays, coffee is exported from all parts of the globe... Columbia, Peru, Costa Rica, Africa, Disney World. This could have been an experimental blend from Florida or California. I shrugged and took another sip. Quite a peculiar flavor, indeed.
Glancing up, I saw that there stood another family member, staring at me with a look that could be either concern, or guilt. “It was you, wasn’t it? YOU placed my mocha in the refrigerator!”
They sighed and shook their head. “That’s orange juice,” they insisted.
“Oh, sure, that’s what you would like me to believe, isn’t it? Hey, come back here! I’m not done with you,” I screamed at their retreating back. I glared knives at them, silently promising to prosecute them to the furthest extent of the law should I find that they were the mischievous mocha meddler.
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