We hoped everyone enjoyed last week’s writing contest! We had a lot of fun entries with a lot of novel superpowers. But our favorite entry is a humorous tale by Ashley Gardana about a sentient coffee pot and the man with the power to communicate with it. When getting a good cup of Joe is on the line, you need a real hero to save the day. Congrats Ashley and thanks for your entry!
[line]
The Coffee Machine has Turned Sentient
By Ashley Gardana
“I think this machine is mocking me,” my husband greeted as I walked into our kitchen. He wouldn’t look at me though, instead he kept an analytical eye on the black and stainless steel appliance.
I yawned. “What are you talking about?”
He poked at the button that usually sent our house into an aroma of brewing coffee. Now, it sputtered and hissed. Almost a yawn of its own. “I think it’s still sleeping.”
My husband is a very logical man, a scientist, a non-fiction reader.
“Again, what are you talking about?”
“I’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. Every three minutes the machine sputters and hisses like it’s breathing.”
“Breathing?” My skepticism dripped off the word. “Are you sure it’s not broken?”
“Definitely not broken.” He petted the top of the machine, similar to the way he stroked my hair hours before. The machine purred. “It’s reacting to me.”
“Reacting? Are you serious?” I had not had my coffee yet. My husband was well aware that my patience was nonexistent without coffee. I nudged him aside with my hip, placing the machine front of me, a battle of wills as I press the brew button over and over and over.
Hiss.
The machine gurgled awake.
Splat.
I was left with a chunk of thick coffee filled with grinds. I don’t even want to taste it.
“You shouldn’t have pushed him,” my husband chastised.
Him?
“Look, watch.” My husband was in front of the stainless steel coffeemaker again, petting its side now, encouraging, “Come on there, little fellow, you know you want to make me some coffee.”
“Ya, or else we’ll toss it,” I murmured. My husband actually gasped, scandalized apparently. “Did I wake up in some sort of alternate universe or something? I just want this stupid machine to make me a decent cup of coffee.”
My eyes were watering now, frustration and early morning crankiness were never my best combination.
“She doesn’t mean it,” my husband was consoling the machine. “She’s just a little grumpy in the morning. That’s why you’re here.”
The machine gurgled.
“That’s not the only reason!” My husband assured it. I continued listening as my husband spun platitudes to a machine.
“I won’t share with her, I promise.” Was the last thing I heard before the machine hissed to life.
Drip. Drip. Drip. The coffee smelled divine, a light roast with hints of vanilla. My husband took a sip through his pleased smile.
I dashed forward, cup in hand to receive the dripping deliciousness but as soon as my cup was near, the coffee again turned into thick grind.
My husband shook his head. “You should’ve been nicer to him, dear.
[line]
For more of Ashley’s work, check out her website asgardana.wordpress.com.
