Holy Grounds

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Kyle took a sip of coffee, then admired the cup before setting it down. The spectacle made Nate roll his eyes.

“Have you ever considered the immeasurable wonders of coffee?” asked Kyle.

“Nope,” answered Nate.

“It’s genuinely spiritual,” said Kyle.

Nate looked around the greasy spoon just in time to see a man sitting at the counter, picking his nose with a fork. He cleaned the tines with his fingers, then continued to eat his pie. “Yeah, right,” said Nate.

“Coffee is a supernatural gift. A blessing bestowed to us that reveals the nature of God himself, both complex and mysterious. And it’s one of the few joys in life given freely to the entire world without partiality,” gushed Kyle.

“Awesome,” said Nate. He was still enthralled by the man eating his pie.

“And yet, out of this glorious nectar grows a dark rebellion from the heart of depravity. Frappuccinos, lattés and other frankensteinian abominations that mangle and distort the divine blessing. What God intended for good we have heinously turned into evil,” ranted Kyle.

“Wow,” said Nate. He watched as the man at the counter took another stab at his nose with his fork.

Kyle noticed the distraction. “What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” shrugged Nate.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just that you talk like drinking coffee is some sort of religious experience,” said Nate.

“It is.”

“Which means this place is like a temple or something.”

“Now you’re getting it,” exclaimed Kyle.

Nate pointed to the counter with a nod of his head. “That dude over there is digging for gold with his fork.”

“So?”

Nate smiled. “Just goes to show. One man’s holy ground is another man’s booger mine.”

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About vanyieck

There is nothing about me that is more interesting than you. I am a man. I have a wife and family. I have a career. I have two dogs. I
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