There won’t be any soppy serenading over the passing of The Coffee Club: Truth is Stranger Than Fiction; not that tears matter. Our colours might fade but they’re colour-fast. But to do so would break a rule of the Coffee Club. Plus soppy endings belong at the end. I’m only 51 words in, so there’s plenty of distance to cover before we put the digital lid on this and consign it to the forever darkness. Welcome to Coffee Club Part Three: Mr Fruit Tingle and The Electric Scooter Kid.
Welcome to Coffee Club Part Three: Mr Fruit Tingle and The Electric Scooter Kid.
Before we introduce the last members, a quick recap of what colours we’ve painted:
Mr Blue (A founding member with an inexplicable stain across his stomach.) He once controlled the entire foot of the Italian coastline and dabbled in the perplexities of the housing market. Now he more paddles than peddles for a living. Mr Green (A great white whale that got away.) He took with him two-fingers Tony and many tall tales. We had the 50-foot woman introduce herself. She shattered the glass ceiling and let in some light, and I must add, vented an often musty conversation. Mr Red (Mushroom hat man, terrorist fighter, and all-round nice guy). Mr Brown (Genetic splicing of Chuck Norris and Kung Fu Panda with burning anger issues so bright the Hubble telescope needs to be moved further away from earth to shield it from the intense heat). Mr Purple (Science experiment from a little heard of Eastern Bloc country that uses imported peat as fuel, and with the aid of mystical forces has been given the all clear). And Mr Pink (Older than the pyramids, knew Moses personally, and was the first man Eve offered the apple to. He only declined because he’s an honourable man).
By now the Rules of The Coffee Club should be cemented in with you all: if not, shame, but below is a link you can push with your nose or so inclined, solar plexus to reacquaint yourself.
Mr. Fruit Tingle
For those unfamiliar with the sweet wonder that is a Fruit Tingle, think of it as a unicorn you put on your tongue and bask in the intense sweetness as it dissolves in your mouth. Sugar might be souring with healthy people, but really, the combinations of sugars and artificial colouring and flavouring humans come up with to put a smile on your face is truly remarkable and deserves to be celebrated. And with that equally remarkable introduction, let me introduce you to the unicorn of the group, that all surprising, always amazing, Mr Fruit Tingle.
He has the distinction to all the other colours as being iridescent. The many adventures he has had, from a stint on television as a professional sportsman to rescuing monkeys from a hoard of angry forest people in a far off Asian country, to a lead singer in a band. Fruit Tingle deserves to own the spectrum from pink hues to dark stains. I know of no better Frankenfurter to have roamed this third rock from the sun, plus he can ride a suicide stick (rip stick) with the grace of a seal lion as it glides through the deep waters of the Pacific.
Another distinction from the other colours, although I haven’t taken a poll, is his photoptarmosis (sneezing when looking at the sun). A semi-erotic experience, so he says. And a condition unexplainable by science, the sneezing part, not the semi-erotic part.
The Electric Scooter Kid
Call me Mr White. I do ride a scooter occasionally. And try as I might, that said suicide stick eludes all attempts at mastering it. Why white? Well, it makes a certain poetic sense – it’s not a colour, but a vessel that shows all the colours.
Also published on Medium.