I May Have a Problem

 "Wow, you must like my coffee," said the young girl behind the counter at our work cafe on the occasion of my third visit to her in the course of the day.  I muttered something positive but at the same time non-threatening and work appropriate in response and she turned away with a smile to make my coffee.  My only alternative was to break down and admit to a near stranger that I am a complete caffeine whore who would cheerfully trade my body for a cold cup of International Roast.  

Indeed things have got so bad that those nearest to me decided to stage an intervention.  I came home the other day to find my plush toys waiting for me in a semi-circle.  Even the puffin was there having been let out of rehab early to participate.

"Take a seat," offered the plague doctor.  I pointed out that the puffin had recently sold all of the furniture to buy black market cleaning products.

"I haven't sold the floor," rasped the puffin, "now sit the hell down."

With me semi comfortably settled on my rather shabby carpet the plague doctor began.

"Now, you know we all love you and care for you..."

"I don't," snapped the puffin, "who's got the Ajax?"

Summoning a deep breath the plague doctor continued, "and we're getting increasingly worried about your caffeine consumption."

I was so outraged I almost choked on the coffee filter I was chewing.

"This is an ambush," I muttered somewhat indistinctly.

"It's an intervention," corrected the spider, "by those who, erm, well by those who have to put up with you on a daily basis."

"Mornings are the worst," said Humpy.  "I would never have left the desert if I'd known that every morning would consist of you throwing items out of the kitchen until you find where the platypus has hidden the coffee.  And then there was the screaming."

"That was because the damned puffin had filled the coffee tin up with bootleg drano."

"Which you boiled and drank with sugar and milk," snapped the puffin obviously still irritated.

"I think you need medical assistance," said the plague doctor, "your humours are definitely out of balance."

"Of course my humours are out of balance.  I've just been ambushed by a bunch of caffeine hating freaks."

"And then there's the hallucinations," added the the Lucius the Bear.

"What hallucinations?"

"You do realise you're currently conducting a conversation with a group of plush toys?"

I woke up covered in sweat on my kitchen floor.  I gazed around wildly but there were no plush toys to be seen.  Trembling I dragged myself up and looked around the apartment.  The plush toys lay where I had hurled them last night after an inadvertent spilling of my late night coffee had triggered an outburst of rage.  I stared at the plague doctor intently but it lay on its back staring at the ceiling.  I nodded approvingly and, with normality restored, I turned on the kettle and reached for the coffee tin.  Which was empty except for a couple of leeches and a note in the plague doctors handwriting.  "Take two daily with breakfast, and keep off the coffee".