Champion’s cup

The yellow coffee machine was at one of its busiest days, and was grinding its 50th chunk of beans, while two men stood waiting, their shiny right shoe tapping impatiently, and their perfumes conflicting. The darned coffee machine gives you too many thought-free seconds to stand through. Or for some of us, thoughts drag themselves in, anyway.

“Don’t give me that look that mocks the look on my face.”

“But it’s the ‘we-fought-again’ face. Your eyebrows are wiggly. How can I not mock that?”

“Haha. So now the expression is so common that it even has a name.”

The wiggly-eyebrowed man stepped aside with his full white company-merchandised cup, the froth of the cappuccino dancing on its brim. The coffee machine looked relieved. It was one of those cups he wasn’t very fond of. It was company merchandise. How attractive can one expect it to be?

The other guy placed his cup on the dashboard, and the machine rumbled and gushed to fill it up in like it seemed to have been waiting for that very cup all morning.

“I’m tired, man. Don’t you ever get tired of these stupid mind games women play?”

“Not me.”

“Oh, don’t tell me. You’re the one who says you’re wife’s a hard task master.”

“Yeah, well she is. But we’re good. Hell, we’re more than good! See, Sabrina knows how obsessed I am about work and about ‘winning’. So if I want something, anything, she makes me have to win it. And usually, eventually, and I’m quite sure it doesn’t come to her as a surprise, I win. That way, I’m happy I won what I want. And she’s happy coz the winner….is….her’s!”

“Yeah, but what when you don’t win?” which is usually the case when it comes to me.

“Then she does! And I get to be the lucky…owner! And besides, women are contagiously happy when they win. Especially against a tough guy. Then they’re on fire, man! I mean, they’re sweet, caring and…ravishing at the same time! So trust me, my occasional loss is more than compensated. You should try losing up sometimes, you know! Incredible results. Gotta go.”

As the man walked, the wiggly-eyebrowed friend looked enlightened.

You know what I love about that man? When he talks, life doesn’t seem all the trouble it is.

The coffee machine looked in usual awe at his briskly walking hero.

You know what I love about that man? When he walks, the froth at the rim of his cup doesn’t dance.

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