kopio

A promotional piece I wrote for a coffee shop in Edmonton many years ago. I unearthed it for my portfolio and I love how I worked in all the names of people I love into it. Henderson = my mom's maiden name.

Henderson Tribune
Letter to the Editor

Dear Sir/Madam,

This is just a quick note, written on my new monogrammed stationary (courtesy of the grandkids!) to apologize for my public disturbance the week previous. It started out so innocently. It was a Wednesday evening and our weekly Board Game Club was meeting at 7:30 pm exactly. (Wilfrid Morley, who makes that awful commute to the city each day, with the dodged orange cones and Handicapped Stalls filled with teenage boys, well, he can take an extra five minutes.) The game was to be Scrabble and the refreshments would be an attempt at something edible for every letter of the alphabet. (Predictably enough, the Udder milk pate and Yak terrine were left well alone)
We were just finishing the beautiful meal, when Joyce Lark demanded the attention of everyone in the room. In charge of the post-meal beverages, but also a bit of a bore, I was duly startled when a foreign, steaming hot beverage was suddenly presented. Seconds after my hands hugged the warm damp cup, the tight coil of steam rising up off the brown velvet satin surface cymballed up my nostrils and swarmed my brain. I cautiously took a sweet sip of this dark nectar and if you thought the yak had jump-started my molars, that was nothing in comparison to this. I absolutely swear my incisors were wearing wee lampshades on their heads and my tongue was shaking coconuts as the carnival in my mouth was ignited. I think it’s the closest I'll ever be to New Orleans.
As the needle on the gramophone skipped in my mouth, I sputtered an enquiry as to what exactly this was. With a smirk, Joyce revealed three life-changing words, “fresh brewed coffee.” If this was coffee, I was indeed a monkey’s uncle. The coffee I knew was a shy guy compared to this bully of a drink. My previous definition of coffee would have been beaten senseless by this new coffee, possessing a bold personality but with the class to still know which fork to use for the salad course. If this indeed was coffee, might my knickers be on backwards and upside down and me none the wiser?
We sat at rapt attention as Joyce educated us about this specialized process that treated beans like royalty and put to shame the stale, uninspired swill we had previously been slurping. Shortly thereafter is when the gathering spilled out onto the lawn; cups in hand we sprinkled the vowels and consonants into the shrubbery and had visions of our revitalized old faithful beverage dancing through our heads.
Then, shortly after that, the kind and understanding gentlemen of the law were summoned by the spoil sports across the street when Johnny McDonald started belting out classic show tunes after his third mugful. So, in conclusion, I apologize for all of the ruckus; it most certainly will be better contained this Wednesday. (Chinese checkers is the game to beat!) Oh, and if the tale of all my taste buds jitterbugging on my tongue sounds inviting, mosey on down to the Kopio Coffee shop. Use caution, and you will surely swoon!

Sincerely,
Helen Taylor

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