I think I’ve settled just about as many total loss ayuto claims as I care to. And I’m sick of nobody making coffee around here but me. So I’m seriously thinking I need to blow this popsicle stand and get a new life.
I’m thinking I need to move to like, Columbia and get myself a coffee & cocoa plantation (I’m not interested if the two plants don’t grow in the same climate, this is a fantasy so shaddap). I’m pretty sure I can find a way to get the things to interbreed so I can grow my very own mocha beans. Yes, I’m confident.
I’ll need some good dairy cows, too. Mocha needs whipped cream. I’ll hire some of the local militia thugs to make the whipped cream (obscure joke involving a cow, a flail and an evil man dedicated to making fine whipped cream) and protect my lands from the neighbors.
And I guess I’ll need some slave girls to help me get rid of all the tequila and fruity drinks my poolside bartender, Fritz, will insist on whipping up.
Can I be Pancho, your loyal bodyguard, who gets all the cool weaponry, shoots anyone who invades your privacy, and has a torrid affair going on with Ingrid, your Swedish masseuse?
Thanks, but no thanks. I am thinking about teaching at The Cortez School of Magic, now that the Mad Scientist position dried up. Besides, with your obsession with defeating that swordsman, how can you be trusted to care after the beans?
: hands silenus the 1920’s Style Death Ray and a double mocha grande :
Pancho, your first assignment is to inspect the coconut drink mugs. Rumor has it that someone has been sneaking rum into the compound, I want you to locate as much of it as you can and get rid of it.
Oh, dude, I’m so there. Can Fritz the poolside barman bring beer too? I like beer. I’d happily be a slave girl for beer and backrubs. Well, in a tropical setting maybe. Not so much in Minnesota.
That settles it. If Jules is going, I’m there, too. And what the fuck is she doing in Minnesota?
After this week, some mindless slave girl duty sounds like just what I need. That, or I stay here and do something violently unpleasant to my idiot coworker with a staple remover.
Maureen: Cow-orker, say ‘ello to my leetle fren’ . . . click click click click click click click click click click click click click
Maureen, I’m putting you in charge of my heart. See that nothing unfortunate happens to it. CowGirl, hold that chase lounge down over there next to the diving board. Yes, that’s the one. Make sure it doesn’t go anywhere. And keep an eye on this, will you?
:: 4 heavily muscled latino dwarves deposit a large bucket of ice, a pony keg and a mini beer-mug freezer near the diving board near the diving board. ::
Oooh! Oooh! Can I come? I’ve got oodles of tools and books and magazines on organic gardening! Organically grown coffee is pretty pricey these days, and all that extra profit could be used to buy more slave girls! (Really, slave girls are like tools, booze, and money, you can never have enough!)
Well, I’m pretty adept at homebrewing. Can I be appointed Braumeister? I can even take on the role of setting and enforcing liquor taxes. On everything but the beer and rum we make. Stay with me here.
We set up a side area as a college resort. Completely walled off from our utopia. Being the hip, original, free-thinking sophisticates they, and every other college student the last 400 years, think they are, they won’t notice how much they’re charging on dad’s Visa.
First law? 300% tax on any drink ending in -tini that isn’t made from straight vodka/gin and vermouth. That should be enough to fund universal pot coverage.
Next we tax the shit out of any beer brewed in Mexico. Or Europe. Or Canada. Or the US. (I’m the beer guy, I don’t want the competition) That should cover food and clothing for us.
$200 per drink excise on the douchebags that insist on ordering a Cuba Libre when they know it’s much less pretentios to say “Rum and Coke with a lime.” (Being a bartender for years dealing with the college crowd, I will also work with the Minister of Justice to give immunity to anyone that punches these pricks in the spleen). This should cover our Supreme Ruler’s cost for penicillin. :eek:
And finally, I will covertly fund a task force to kidnap the masterminds at Baily’s distillery. Because we all know the best thing to ass to coffe is a good shot of Irish Cream liqeure.
That’s my platform. I humbly demand your vote. Cue patriotic music of the Benevolent Republic of Montoya
