Mischief Coffee Novels & Stories

I couldn't help but get excited about the fact that the smile on my face was not going anywhere anytime soon, and even if boss man decided to be a prick all morning, I wouldn't care because I have a date with my best friends tonight. As I entered the bustling coffee shop, I was instantly hit with the rich aroma of freshly ground beans and the gentle hum of conversation filling the air. I approach the counter, my eyes scanning the menu, before settling on her usual order, which is: a coffee with milk and 2 sugars for Gary; a hot chocolate for me; and a caramel mocha with cream on top and 2 sugars for Ebony. The barista, a young woman with an easy smile, greeted me with a friendly "Welcome to

Arlo There’s a place called Bean Fiend’s Grind on the corner of Kelm and Etta street, and I don’t trust it. The sign has a demonic goat sipping coffee, and the chalkboard outside says soul-roasted espresso. That’s not a metaphor I’m comfortable with. Scarlett pushes a cup into my hand anyway. “Try it,” she says, watching me like she already knows the answer. I eye the cup suspiciously. It’s too small to be proper coffee and it has art on top. Some kind of leaf or heart or flaming chicken, I can’t tell. Coffee shouldn’t be used as a canvas.

He sat on the sofa with his head bowed, pulling out his phone to send a message to Andy. "Jack, please purchase a cup of coffee and a cake from the nearest store and ensure they are impeccably prepared. Make it quick!" Milky Cafe, renowned as the most upscale café in the city, boasted a single cup of coffee priced at over 200 dollars, surpassing even the luxury of Starbucks. Jack was taken aback upon receiving the message. "h*ly, Mr. Dickson sent me a message, and it's handwritten!" John, hearing the commotion, hurried over to inquire. "What's going on? What did Mr. Dickson instruct?"

JACQUELINE Eight Years Ago “I ordered iced Americano! Why the hell am I getting a Latte!” “And I ordered a double foam Expresso, why did I get an Cappuccino with cinnamon, I’m allergic to cinnamon are you trying to kill me!” The two friends yelled simultaneously. “I- I..” I stuttered at the loss of words or explanation to give concerning mixing up their orders, they snarled and before I could bat an eyelash, their very cold cup of coffee hit my face and sloshed down my entire body.

type, but somehow we’re making it work. I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, eyes half-lidded, sipping coffee that tastes a little more like ash than it should. I’ve been making it myself the last couple of days, still trying to get the hang of it. The way Micah makes coffee is somehow a ritual to him. It’s a little more precise, a little more involved than it should be, but it works for him. I can’t say it’s my favorite, but it’s better than the instant stuff I used to drink.

"Anyone who bullies Hazel Sweeney again, I'll break their neck!" Everyone was stunned. I only felt irony; it was just another farce of someone betting with others to win me over. When he gave me priceless jewelry, I did not even bother opening the box; I simply donated it, saying I had plenty of such things. The next day, he sent even rarer, more expensive pieces. He took me to a Mafia family dinner, yet I showed up in a bikini. When someone mocked me for being unruly and dressed like a prostitute, he immediately canceled his partnerships with those companies and acquired them!

he said flatly. “Sure. What kind of coffee would you like? We have Americano, cappuccino, latte. “Black. No cream. No sugar. I said coffee, not dessert.” I forced a smile. “Coming right up sir” I tried. I swear I tried. But I was still figuring out how to use the stupid machine. In my panic mood , my hand slipped and I hit the wrong button. Instead of a plain black coffee, the machine sputtered out a lightly foamed americano with a swirl of crème on top.

"Wow. That is... definitely unique." "Right?" Anika bragged, her posture turning royal as she smiled like an absolute genius. "I added a secret ingredient! See, I saw this trending video online that says if you add salt to black coffee, it completely takes all the bitterness away. Do you like it? Is it the best coffee you've ever had or what?" Christopher stared down at the dark, poisonous liquid in his mug, his stomach churning. He drank the coffee for the bitterness! Why did she think he would appreciate…

He ask when I am about to open the door already. My heart is beating so fast as I slowly faced him. "Uhm that's a coffee shake, Sir." I answered hesitantly. "I told you not to disturb me. Did you buy this?" He ask calmly and I can't believe it, it thought he will be mad. "I personally made that, Sir." I answered, still nervous. I blink twice as I watched him tried to drink it. He started drinking a lot from it as he slowly nodded. "This is cafe mocha, this is my favorite coffee. How did you make it?" He ask while staring at the coffee bottle I used.

I demand when he steps into the elevator before the door could close. "I changed my mind." He shrugs, pocketing his hands as he leans on the wall opposite mine. "Whatever, just don't talk to me." I warn, resuming back to sipping on my carajillo. Of all shades of coffee, carajillo is the craziest; the shit tastes so divine, and I can't help wondering who sat down and thought of mixing coffee with alcohol, while Isaac Newton was busy staring at his father's apple tree. Who needs gravity when you can get high on coffee?