And later on the Seventh Day, while everyone else was resting, the deity got back up and created coffee.

M. M. De Voe
2 min readOct 16, 2023

To be honest, it was meant an artistic joke. An amusement, like the giraffe and the lanternfish and the Venus fly trap. Something creative and fun, acknowledging the irony in the whole of creation. A sort of… metaphor.

The deity chose unremitting bitterness as the basic flavor, bitterness being the flavor that all human palates must learn to tolerate over time; bitterness is an acquired taste and in nature is generally a warning that something is underripe, unhealthy or poisonous.

This highly amused the deity.

For the color, a deep, opaque, and angry darkness. Everything a human naturally feared, contained in a cup. What could be funnier than creating a beverage with which to relax, whose sole purpose was to create an oasis of calm, peace, contentment and joy, but to use as its building blocks only ingredients that set a human heart racing, scald, increase emotions as well as blood pressure, rev up thoughts and bring heat to the surface of the skin much like a panic attack…?

This was better than the praying mantis or the duck penis.

And the most fun was to insist that this simple beverage tangle the human digestive system, eating away at existing ulcers or causing new ones!

The coup de grace: it would be addictive.

The deity smiles and knows — infallibly: when the eighth day finally rolls around there will be whole rooms devoted to this ironic little art project and the people who populate Paradise will gather together to be alone with their thoughts — will become inspired by this lovely little something to create and be productive. They will ingest irony without a second thought and it will be good.

(Infallibly, the deity also knows that many will insist on shunning the snarky little treat and these will condescendingly rant at its cost to their health and their wallets while paying four times the amount for green goddess juices that will be equally ironic. But the seventh day is almost over and the green goddess juice will have to wait.)

The deity parts the clouds and watches the little dramas while sipping the bitter, black beverage and savoring the irony of creation.



M. M. De Voe

Fictionista, collector of obscure awards, admirer of optimists in the face of dread. Author of 2 books that are polar opposites and yet the same.