“And what time is it again, Wizz?”
“No, dipshit. Not yet. Way to ruin the surprise, as usual.”
“Oh, is this where I’m supposed to say the title of our show? You never specify, Paul.”
"We talked about this, Wizz––"
"You know I'm not good with this type of crap––"
“Jesus. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for––“
“Burn the F*cking House Down!”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“What? Just doing my job, Paul.”
“Folks, this is what I have to deal with. Every day. Every second. What a life.”
“Alright, folks, a quick announcement before we dive into our topic today. If you recall from our last episode, we explained that our studio was unfortunately burned to a crisp––”
“––and we also begged you for money––”
“––but we’re happy to report that the studio’s finally in construction! Thank you all for your contributions over the last couple of weeks. Besides the people that didn't contribute. Screw those people."
"No ETA on when we’ll be able to use the new studio, though. Hopefully soon. Until then, we’ve taken to inhabiting our favorite coffee shops. Why is that, Paul?”
“For the caffeine and for the free internet, of course!”
“Said so eloquently. So, in honor of our makeshift studio, we’re gonna review some new coffee drinks today. Prepare for a whole lot of energy and spice, folks. Things are about to get… hot.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. Some of the drinks are iced. Idiot.”
“Huh. I didn’t think of that.”
“No surprise there. Alright, folks. The first one is titled… huh. Color me surprised.”
“It’s the same nickname I gave my girlfriend in college.”
“It’s called Amy-ityville Whore?”
“No, dipshit, the other girlfriend. Also, Amy, sorry about that nickname, if you’re listening. I was dumb and immature back then––
"––not much has changed, I think––"
"––although you did cheat on me twelve times, so, I guess we’re even––”
“Focus, Paul. You’re gonna have to clarify for me on that there drink name.”
“Right. It’s called 'Apple Of My Eye'.”
“Aw. That’s a side I’ve never seen to you before, Paul. I’m touched.”
“Shut up. Let’s get to drinking.”
“Huh. I don't think we've ever applied that phrase to coffee before. Alright. Taking the first sip."
"Wow. You suck at this."
"Alright. Fine. It's as if I'm standing in an apple orchard, sipping from the trees, the crisp freshness reawakening me, garnished with a touch of heaven––"
"I take it back. Please stop."
"Hey. You asked, man. What're your thoughts on it?"
"Huh. It is pretty good. It kinda just takes like extra spicy apple cider with a little espresso flavor. Nothing like a good kick."
"Seven out of ten?"
"I'll take it. Next one: 'Harvest Hay'."
"Uh, hold up. Hay? As in horses?"
"Hay as in horses, Paul. No joke."
"So we're actually drinking hay?"
"Diffused hay leaves in coffee."
"Correction: it's poison, it sounds like."
"Come on, Paul. Give it a taste."
"Ugh. Okay. For the listeners."
"For the listeners. Cheers."
"I think I..."
"I think I'm going to marry this drink one day, Wizz."
"Oh. Okay. This got weird."
"I'm gonna take this drink out for a nice date. Fancy. A steak-dinner-with-red-wine type of date."
"And then I'm going to talk dirty to it."
"There might be children listening, Paul. Even thought they probably shouldn't be to begin with, like we said last time––"
"Yes. Children. This coffee and I are going to have lots of kids one day. That's how much I love this drink, Wizz. It's a forever-love kind of drink."
"It's just coffee, man."
"No. It's the drink of life."
"Something tells me you're going to give this a high rating."
"This drink cannot be rated, Wizz. It's invaluable."
"Well. I give it an eight. Moving on."
"Sorry, folks. I guess I got a little carried away there."
"Paul, take a deep breath, please. Alright, folks, drink number three: 'Chilly Chestnuts'."
"Ooh, an iced coffee! Finally!"
"Did you just... giggle?"
"What? You got a problem with that?"
"Seemed to move on from Harvest Hay pretty quick, yeah?"
"We're taking a break. Nothing gets me going like iced coffee."
"See, this is why I want to hear Amy-ityvilla Whore's side of the story."
"Again, so sorry Amy––"
"We're getting sidetracked again, Paul."
"Getting sidetracked is pretty much the entire essence of our show, Wizz."
"Fair enough. Okay––'Chilly Chestnuts' time."
"I'll say one thing. The ratio of ice cubes to actual coffee is just ridiculous. Seriously? This cup is three-fourths frozen water and a quarter of actual coffee."
"I'm detecting a bit of anger in your voice, Paul. Shall we do some more breathing exercises?"
"Wizz, I just think that if I'm paying five or six bucks for a drink, then at least four or five of those bucks should be going directly to the actual coffee. Not the damn ice cubes."
"Point taken. What about––"
"And what'll happen when that ice melts? A watery, disgusting pile of bullshit––that's what happens. Take this drink away from me, Wizz; I can't look at it any longer."
"Okay, Paul, let's move on––"
"You know what? No. I'm not done. This drink is an abomination––"
"––Paul, please sit down––"
"––this drink betrays people's trust in ratios––"
"––I think the mathematical concept is going to last for a very long time, Paul––"
"––all those ice cubes should go to hell––"
"Breathe with me, friend. Breathe. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. There we go. Alright. Calm?"
"Sorry, folks. I guess I'm more passionate about coffee that I previously thought."
"Three out of ten. No. Two. Two out of ten."
"Damn. That's harsh."
"It's the truth. People deserve to know the truth, Wizz."
"Folks, I give that one a six. And there you have it––three drinks, three ratings, and three absolutely useless reviews. You're welcome."
"Do you think listeners lose IQ points after they listen to us, Wizz?
"Oh, without a doubt. We lose IQ points just making these episodes."
"Hey. Speak for yourself."