Even the smallest splash of spilled coffee instantly swells to become an epic tsunami. Its angry torrents crash into every nook and cranny, soaking all surfaces with the sticky residue of vengeful bean. And after the initial deluge, behold a bottomless and undrainable flood plain requiring an emergency supply of paper towels.
Where does all this extra liquid come from? There is certainly more coffee pooling on my desk than was in the cup it escaped from. I call it "dark brown matter" because scientists are still unable to explain its existence.
In fact, it's probably some new, unidentified form of self-perpetuating plasma, rather like "The Blob" of silver-screen infamy. And should the world's spilled coffee continue to expand at its current rate, we will all be swimming in the unforgiving substance before too long.
Trust me, the world's engulfment by spilled coffee is a very real peril. It makes the prospect of climate change look like a moderately humid Sunday afternoon weather forecast. The only sane response at this late stage is to switch your preferred libation to a cup of green tea. Harmless stuff that simply evaporates in seconds without leaving a trace.
