Saturday, October 8, 2016

Pumpkin Spiced Punk'd

The more I thought about what was at stake, the angrier I became. And the more angry I become, the more I need to head to the kitchen to indulge in some home comforts, by which I mean whipping up a batch of tasty and nutritious whipped potatoes. Which I did. A lot. Remember, I was really angry, so I needed to calm down pronto, and so I ate more. Eventually, the guys pulled me out of there (no easy task) because I was in serious danger of becoming as big as a houseboat.

See, I remember my very first Pumpkin Spice Latte. I was standing in line at the counter of Mitchell's Store in Lake Stevens, WA, waiting to pay for some decorative oven gloves and a book of stamps. when an employee of the in-house coffee bar (remember, I was in Washington State, not a million miles away from Seattle, the birthplace of Starbucks) wielding a tray of small cups of steaming liquid, and proffered it in my direction. 

Something like this.

"Why, thank'ee, sirrah," I offered. "prithee what hast thou there?"

"Excuse me?" he replied.

"I mean to say, what's this then?" I replied.

"Some new flavours we're testing out, sir. Go ahead, try one."

Now you know me and free stuff. One of my personal mantras is "If it's free, it's for me!" I was on it like a car bonnet.

The first was delicious. "That one's Eggnog Latte, sir," he declared. "Try the other one."

I reached for the other, tasted of it and was instantly transported to a world where flavour knew no bounds.

Yes sirree, I sure do love me that Pumpkin Spice flavour. If I'm honest, the one thing that can get me out of a funk better than whipped potatoes is a Pumpkin Spice Latte, double tall, extra shot.

So naturally, my inclination was to go straight downtown to the Starbucks and sink a few PSLs. But as was already mentioned, they'd been cleaned out. 

I stumbled through the dusty streets of Stiletto Flats like a lost soul. I wandered for what seemed like hours, like a ghost ship in the Arctic Circle, aimless, almost lifeless, a vacant wanting stare on my visage. I went over the events of the past week in my mind, rambling like a loon. "No more pumpkin spice... no more pumpkin spice... gone... all gone... bye bye... no more pump--"

I abruptly stopped as something caught my eye. Down a small alley, I could see a new coffee shop had opened and the A-board outside declared, "Best Pumpkin Spice Lattes in Town!"

I sniffed the air and could smell the heavenly scent wafting on the light autumnal breeze. As if to add to the  whole vignette, a few red and orange leaves skittered along the ground in front of me.

I headed straight to the coffee shop, calling the guys for backup as I did so.

Almost immediately the 'Vette pulled up and Michael and Clark hopped out. They'd been worried about me since my whipped potato binge and had been tailing me at a safe distance.

We Michael and I entered the cafe while Clark located the back entrance. The cat behind the counter seemed oddly familiar.

"Alright, Diabolical Pumpkin Spice! We're onto your little game!" I cried (literally), while Michael aimed his Lobster Rage Fists at him.

Clark entered through the kitchen door and declared "This guy's been stockpiling Torani syrups!"

144 cases, to be precise. That would be gross larceny.

After all the hubbub had died down and Pumpkin Spice revealed to be none other than local ne'er-do-well Norbert McVehicular, we figured out what had occurred.

Norbert had become obsessed with running a successful coffee shop but was thwarted by the masses who go to Starbucks all the time. He had intercepted and stolen their entire supply of Pumpkin Spice syrup and had only involved us when he had had a moment of self-doubt and called us as a thinly veiled cry for help.

So all's well that ends well. Starbucks are back making their PSLs, Norbert is under house arrest and attending regular therapy, and The Unbelievables (and the known world) are blessed by the return of all things Pumpkinny and Spicy.

Some say it was all masterminded by me. I'm saying nothing, except to mention that FALL IS HERE, FOLKS! PUMPKINS! EGGNOG! TURKEYS! SCARECROWS! CORNSTALKS! CORNUCOPIAS! etc.

Boy, do I love Fall. Mmm, pumpkin spiced pecans!

P.S. What devilry is this?

1 comment:

  1. In a world of pumpkin insanity, I feel like the one sane voice reminding the world that pumpkins actually taste pretty disgusting. I swear the caning seasons gives white people a collective insanity. Is it a form of SAD? I declare my own blog a pumpkin fee zone, a safe space for pumpkin haters, wherever they may be. I know they are out there.