It's About the Environment? And Caffeine.

A Story of Caffeine and Other Things, but Mostly Caffeine

There was a time, long, long ago. It was a time of minotaurs. For those who are unfamiliar, minotaurs are the insane half human half bull-monster breed of thing that terrorize bad children in the labyrinth and riff on sweet guitar solos with David Bowie. It was a time of peace, and war, but mostly war. I mean the world was ruled by minotaurs, and if I’ve learned anything about them from the mythos of the ancient Greeks it is that they have a penchant for violence, as well as goring things.

It was a simpler time. Minotaurs could be minotaurs and men could be, well, minotaur food, or objects for minotaur amusement. It was the fifth of February, a cold day, colder than a witch’s teat as she stands bare-breasted into the wind atop the great mountain calling forth the new day. The minotaurs had just finished a day of reveling and goring the lesser human beings who inhabited the lowlands below them. Jack, a rather feisty and ripped minotaur was pouring a large goblet of wine for his bros when out of breath a rather thick minotaur burst into his party totally killing the mood.

“Dude, you’re totally killing the mood!” Said Jack sloshing wine over the two minowhores (minotaur whores, not known for being gentle, let’s just say that Elliot Grey would have liked them) sitting at his feet. He had very clearly been about to score and this lesser peasant was cock blocking in a most major way.

“I’m so sorry bro, but something terrible is happening.” Jack set down his wine cup on the table that he had made of human clavicle bones and then promptly punched it toward the peasant, spraying him with wine and shame, but at the same time providing a small moment of interest to an otherwise dull and meaningless life. Yes in that moment, though wine covered his face for the first time he felt truly alive, as if someone had noticed him, someone cared what he had to say, and someone would finally know that his real name was Jennifer.

Jack of course cared for none of that, and merely wanted to spray wine over something. “Speak nerd, or I shall challenge you to a duel with my massive horns which I have just finished sharpening with a stone made with the bones of the pointiest orphans in the land!”

“Have you not noticed how cold it is? Even the witch has covered up today. When I awoke for the morning call  there were no sagging breasts ravaged by time to be found, only a modestly dressed hag, heralding that yet another day was going to begin.”

“You speak like a nerd, and thus I find it hard to listen, but your sentence also spoke of boobs, and so I will allow you one more chance to continue.” Jack sat back in his chair and called to his servant for a snack. Listening to the problems of others always made him hungry. A rather small minotaur rushed out of the room and returned quickly with a fresh-faced ginger orphan in his paws. Jack scooped him up, holding him as though he were his own child, and then promptly bit him in half. The orphan’s screams were loud enough that the walls of the citadel threatened to crack with their glory.

For a moment after there was only the sound of blood dripping from Jack’s jaws onto the gold plated floor beneath him. The minowhores licked it up greedily, wanting nothing more than to forever feed on the purest of blood that only the profoundly emotionally crippled can produce.

Now is my chance to speak. He is sated and will be in a good mood. There is never a better time for him to receive my message. I will forever be heralded as the savior of the minotaur race. They will know me. I AM JENNIFER! “The climate we minotaurs have come to know as normal is shifting. Soon there will be nothing left of the world we inhabit but a frozen wasteland. There will be no more bare-breasted witches, only the bear breasts of great white polar bears coming to usurp our throne and defile our women! It all stems from the unsustainable harvesting of orphans. By killing herds of their parents we are creating a cycle of fear and pain, which ordinarily would be a good thing, but the issue is that fearful beasts produce a great deal of methane.”

“What is this methane?”

“Well, it’s farts.”

“Proceed.”

"If these humans continue to produce such high levels of gas then I fear the climate will spiral out of control within the next calendar year. We must find a more sustainable way to harvest food or we will have no orphans next year. They do not survive the winters well as it is, and if it continues to grow colder we will lose the plumpest before month’s end. Imagine a world where the only orphans we have to eat are scrawny and full of bone. I have prepared a detailed plan of action for how we can reverse this effect, save our climate, and preserve our way of life at the same time!”

“Nerd, you bore me. Destiny, bring me my discussion stick.” One of the minowhores slunk off to a corner and returned moments later with a large axe. Its four blades glinted in the cold evening light and their thirst was evident, there was nothing that would stop them from tasting sweet nerd flesh, they were demons from hell, long since dead, nothing better to do than prey on the living and reap the misery that can only be sown by the wail of thousands of widows crying out in unison: WHY GOD?! WHY WOULD YOU TAKE HIM FROM US?! While their lovers lay dead in the sands of time, bleeding into an every hungry universe in which nothing is fair and everything is unbalanced, just like the galactic whores intended for us all to bow down in servitude, weeping sweet tears of servitude like the true lap dogs of a defiantly apathetic run only by their own avarice and drive to procreate.

“Wait!”

“Sorry nerd, I’m going to smash your face.” Jack heaved the mighty axe and split the nerd in two. Blood flew in all directions, exciting the minowhores and Jack. With that they had a cannibalistic orgy which can only be described as gratuitous, but tasteful.

Night dawned on the minotaur town and all was good, for that evening. Over the course of the coming months the climate continued to change and just as the nerd had predicted there was soon nothing left to eat. After three long winters there was only Jack and a handful of minowhores left.

“Destiny, the end is near.” He said cradling her face in his palms. “Bring me the ceremonial hand grenade.” They did as he asked, and the final four minotaurs huddled together for the warm fires of eternal sleep. “In the words of the immortal Mileytaur: And we can’t stop, and we won’t stop, for we are the ones who rule the night.” He pulled the pin, blowing them all to oblivion. The world froze, and about 300 years later humans became the dominant species.

Fin