O glorious day! O end of all calamity! The gods of ye Rotchetsere Campuse Dyninge have heard my prayers. No longer shall I suffer in cold silence, piling bottles upon bottles of shitty cold brew from the Hillesyde feast hall into a tote bag, to store in my tiny icebox and bravely sip each new morn on the way to become a learnèd scholar. The good fellow Peet has returned once more to town.
Whereas in days of yore I was forced to stand in limbo in the endless queue of the Star Dollars, now a slightly faster alternative is before me: a brewery for mine very own kind, that of the natural philosophers, has opened up a traveling stand in a building I despise and in a geographical location only suited for the funeral rites of an enemy. Granted, its brews are not yet that appetizing, nor do its goods of the baked variety number as plenty as the Connections inn, but Peet’s is most certainly there, and that news I may speak with the most effusive praise.
In light of the disinclination of many of ye weary travelers to leave your hearth this Mid Terme season, I shall in my magnanimity offer a connoisseur’s take on good Peet’s offerings. Prithee, future patron, that you share in my enjoyments, and grace my sage advice by exemplifying basic human decency to the town jester Rocky. He is very weary and fully destitute, and it will not do to keep “clowning on him” in this manner by insinuating that supplements his earnings with tavern girl behavior. With that said, here are my highest recommendations:
- Colde brewe oat latte
I am fond of the need for things to be different things. This beverage combines cold bean juice with the properties of a latte, which I am to understand is also cold bean juice, alongside milk which has never known a cow in any sense of the word. Its milky beginning is followed by a milky continuation and a most anxious finish, which I count as an unfortunate but necessary takeaway. When partaking in the cult of The Beans, one must be prepared that They giveth but also taketh away.
2. Stolen Kinde bar
Since I endeavor to be free from mortal sin, rest assured, dear reader, that mine hand was not the perpetrator of this affront. All the same, I came to be in possession of a most welcome and tasty midday snack. It did, to its credit, transport me back into the times of my hunter-gatherer forefathers. If a single almond nut falls from its sleek plastique packing to hit the carpeted soils of Carlson 1, has it truly made a sound?
3. Colde brewe
Though I impressed upon myself the certainty that I spoke quite clearly in ordering the first item of this summation, the young apprentice receiving my wishes was perhaps hasty in his handing off the cup to be filled. The resulting delivery left me fearful with a finish of existential contemplation, a feat not unusual in my daily rituals, but off-putting all the same.
I must give thanks for this returning brew, for more equally dispersing the Bean-worshippers across a third location. I will give thanks for this closer, less interesting location to wait in line, where I may gaze at the curiosities contained inside a nearby glass conference room and jeer at their lack of calculus knowledge. I am grateful for this place which is exactly between two of mine lecture halls, yet constantly so submerged with gentry that I may never pursue success in entering and leaving with mine desired beverage in time for class. You taunt me, goodfellow Peet’s, to be so close and yet so out of reach.
Praise Peet’s. Praise the Beans. Praise mine Option A declining plan.
And let mine follies never exceed mine means.
