Grampa tells a story

Grampa, grampa, Tell me a story!

Fuck Off kid, Grampa's busy eating delicious candy.

But Grampa! Pleassssse? Tell me a story and I wont stab you with a screwdriver anymore.

Oh, all right....

Once upon the time in a enchanted kitchen across the hallway their was this Magical Roaster that, through the transforming power of heat, helped turned special beans into the greatest elixir that all of history has ever known . Behmor 1600 was its name, an it was truly a very, very special machine.

Grampa, you are not going to talk about coffee again are you?

Do you want a fucking story or not kid? Now, eat some candy and listen to my tale.

So anyway, the mighty little Behmor was truly a magical machine that the kitchen creatures could not live without. However, when it came to loading in the virginal green beans into the sacred wire roasting drum, properly sealing it and placing it in the sacrificial alter to be slowly turned and burned and transformed, great care needed to be taken by the head roasting genie to make sure that everything was safe and working and shit. Otherwise great calamity could come to all the kitchen forest creatures.

Grampa, are talking about last week when you were roasting up an 11 oz batch of Papua New Guinea Peaberry and failed to properly place the drum in the holding notch and then forgot to double check to make sure it turned ok before turning on the roaster and going back to writing your post apocalyptic zombie porn tales only to have the drum fall off the spindle thing a few minutes into the roast and spill the beans all over the chaff collector?

Umm maybe, but hey, I threw in magical creatures and virgin sacrifices and stuff. What the fuck do you want from me kid?

Well, you told me that story already. So tell me another one.

Once upon a time in the magical subtropic mountain forests of India, there was this special tree with magical cherries...