Coffee Review: Green Mountain Pumpkin Spice

The first sip summoned a flurry of tingling in my tastebuds, reminiscent of years past, when I would while away the lazy summer afternoons by making sewage angels and building last-week's-cheese forts. This nostalgia was quickly replaced by a new cornucopia of sensation, as the striking aftertaste introduced the sinus-clearing burn of a horseradish-and-beetle pie, just like Grandma used to make when my brother and I misbehaved.

At this point, the uncontrollable teardrops streaming down my cheeks had added a salty tinge to the coffee's flavor. While the new taste was mostly lost in the sea of despair that was the first sip, I knew that a second sip would clear the tears from my palette and ensure a fair assessment of the Pumpkin Spice coffee.

I took a second sip and swirled it around in my mouth. The Devil appeared before me, with demons at his side and a pitchfork made of swizzle-stick and then there was a ghost but it was a headless ghost and there were bats with spiral eyes and the floor heaved and curled about itself and the vortices knocked me up into the air where I fell suspended and felt nothing but the acid burn on my skin which had been ripped off and was hanging next to me on a rack in a dungeon in the thunderclouds ouijaboard soulless columbian dripping satanic zombie Stamos.

When I regained consciousness, I vowed to never again drink Green Mountain Pumpkin Spice coffee.

And neither should you.