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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Comedy · #2249516
Coffee has been abolished, and the resistance is finally quieting down. Right?


It had been two months. The first couple of weeks were the worst, as expected. The American government had anticipated a serious backlash when the new law against coffee-use had been introduced. At first it was against coffee drinking, but creative souls had made it necessary to forbid any consumption or other form of usage of coffee, or any derivative of the substance.

And while the myriad of ingenious—borderline mad—ways to bend the rules had boggled a lot of government minds at first, it had not halted, or even slowed, the progress of the new administration's plan. In fact, it only increased. As the zeal to drink (or smoke, lick, inject or wear) coffee fueled the zeal to stop the usage, the intensity of the clashes had skyrocketed.

The government had declared 'War on Coffee' just one week into the conflict, quoting the UN's research reports to defend the classification of coffee as a drug. Dangerous drug even, judging by the number of people who had been commited to a hospital for coffee- and protest related injuries in a very short time.

Now though, two months in, all was quiet again. The goernment officials responsible for the anti-coffee effort, drew a baffled sigh of relief. It had been predicted that once the after-effects of the population's coffee addiction started to wear off, things would calm down rapidly. Nonetheless, it felt too good to be true when those predictions were fulfilled.

The situation was so calm, in fact, that the military assistance had been withdrawn; the police could manage the stragglers on their own.

It was with this in mind that the leader of the government's Coffee Abolishment Commitee, Anne Hopkins, was walking down the street to her appartment after a long day of work. After being presented with the latest report, containing nothing but reassuring findings of calm and complacency, she felt hope creeping in at last. There was an extra spring in her step as she ascended the stairs to her floor, and a content sigh of relief escaped her lips when she finally closed the door behind her.

Anne decided that she was going to treat herself to her own homemade spaghetti Bolognese, and an evening of watching her favourite quiz show on tv. If she hurried to cook dinner, she'd be just in time to watch the live show.

After lining up all the ingredients on the kitchen counter, Anne got out one of her largest pots for the spaghetti, and went to fill it with water. As she turned on the tap, she shrieked in shock, dropping the pot with a loud clank, and leaping a step back in horror. Dark brown liquid was pouring into her sink from the running tap. For a moment she was completely stunned, until she smelled the familiar aroma. Coffee.

Spurred into action by her anger, she abruptly turned off the tap, and turned on her heel to march into the living room. Usually such a tidy person, she could not stand the thought of cleaning up the brown, aromatic, mess in the kitchen quite yet. Instead, Anne slumped down on the couch in front of the tv, grabbing the remote brusquely. She was not sure if she was hoping more for an explanation on the News about the extent of the sabotage, or just an evening of her quiz show with no mention of the devil-brew at all.

Turning to the Chanel of her quiz show, she emitted a short burst of humorless laugh, as she was met with the glaring headlines of a Breaking News broadcast. "This just in," the urgent female voice said, "after contaminating the city's entire water reservoar with coffee, protesters have now set fire to several government buildings in the city center..."

Anne watched the flickering fire-display on her tv-screen with a deadpan look on her face. Her body slumped deeper into the couch, weariness making her limbs achingly heavy. She really needed a cup of coffee...











Notes
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