“Are you sure this is such a good idea?” I asked, anxiously. “I mean, on paper, it doesn’t make sense, and every way you’ve tried to explain it doesn’t make sense as well, so I’m a bit hesitant at this point. Hope you can see why.” He leaned over the operating table I was currently lying on and smiled a warm, almost-reassuring smile.
“Trust me, it just makes sense. Think about it: People drink coffee to re-energize themselves, right? It’s a pick-me-up, which is exactly what you need right now, Mr. Harveston. Problem is, the traditional method of drinking coffee will take too long to remedy you of your current critical condition, so I’ve had the ingenious idea to inject a few pints of coffee straight into your bloodstream.” Even as he explained it for the umpteenth time, I still felt uneasy about the notion of coffee flowing through my bloodstream. At the very least, I suppose it would help me reach the sweet release of death sooner, as I had grown tired of being barely alive. Hopefully, everyone stays away from my funeral. I could only pray that nothing about this fateful coffee-related incident would end up on my gravestone. Could you imagine? “Lance Harveston, died by having coffee injected straight to his veins. Didn’t anyone tell him that was an idiotic idea?”
But no, sadly, the only word I had to back myself up was my own, and my good friend, Dr. Stringsley, was all too confident in his plan.
“If you have anything more to say, speak now before I fire up the machine,” he said. I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by Dr. Stringsley speaking again. “All right, let’s do this!” With a swift flick of his dexterous forefinger, Dr. Stringsley flipped a small red switch, and the process began.
No one could ever properly explain to you how much it absolutely hurt to have coffee injected into your body. It’s bad enough when the coffee is too hot, and you burn your tongue, but this feeling… It felt as if my whole body was a tongue, and I’d burned every inch of it. The pain was so prominent that I passed out in about a minute.
When I awoke, I found that everything about my body had healed. The abrasions and cuts on my chest and shoulders had healed up quite nicely, and my skin even felt harder, like some sort of armor. I lifted myself from the table and looked around for Dr. Stringsley, who was nowhere to be found. Looking into a mirror, my whole physical appearance had changed: I was more muscular, my veins bulging from my body, and even looked heavier. There was a strong smell of fine coffee in the room, which was to be expected, but after further investigation, I realized that the smell was coming from my skin.
The experiment was a success.