I gotta have my coffee. The thought of trying to start my day without a hit gives me the shivers. A mug of black and sweet gets me going. Beyond that, an occasional sip throughout the day keeps me stable. Then I have coffee with the evening meal, after which I switch to decaf. Because even more than I need coffee, I need sleep. Oh, I know it�s just a head game. After all the caffeine I ingest during the day, the change to decaf is an attempt to deceive myself.

I have one of those coffee-makers sitting on the counter in the kitchen. I fill it with the makings, coffee and water, one measured scoop for every two cups, every night before I retire. In the morning, there it sits full of my morning measure.

Can you imagine the shock I got the morning I came slippers shuffling into the kitchen�s dim light and found the coffee-maker cold and empty. The contraption had died. I had to sit down; my knees were shaking so hard. I pulled my bathrobe around me and hugged myself. What was I to do? A morning without a fix was unthinkable.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself, For a time I couldn�t think, just breathe, in, out, in, out, in, out. Suddenly, out of the panic, it came to me�Bigbucks! There was one a mile or so down the highway. Saved!

I grabbed my car keys and hurried to the garage. I was crying, what a close call and such an easy solution. I could get tow large black that would hold me until I got to the appliance store and replace that traitorous machine. I would by two Mister Coffees and never get caught short again. The idea was soothing, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Driving down the divided highway, hands trembling on the steering wheel, I noticed a line of traffic backed up along the curb. Was there an accident? I swallowed hard. Would this delay be long: I took to the middle lane to bypass the traffic jam. At twenty miles per hour, I edged along the traffic jam alert for the Bigbucks' sign. There it was, where the jam began.

Oh, no. It wasn�t a traffic jam. They were backed up in line for Bigbucks� take-9ut window. Damn them. Why don[t they make their coffee at home?

I couldn�t get into the line, and now I d passed Bigbucks' entrance. I�d have OT make a U turn, forget the take-out window, and go into the store for my coffee. Simple, I can turn at the next intersection.

Construction/No U-turns. My eyes blurred, my mouth was dry. Can this be a plot? Did some prankster make that sign: trying not to panic, I drove to the next intersection and made my turn. And there to my immense relief, was the Come-Inn Diner. A sign in the window read�Open for Breakfast. Their packing lot was only half full. I[m saved. A couple of pickup trucks, a rusty sedan, and a Sheriff�s patrol car. That was it. I conjured up an image of great coffee. I pulled in, got out of the car, and staggered to the door.

�You can�t come in her dressed like that.�

It was a blonde waitress, built like a defensive tackle. She was pointing at my bunny slippers and bathrobe.

In a squeaky vice, I pleaded, �Plea, I�ve got to have coffee.�

In a manner disdainful, she said, �Sleepy, give me two bucks, stand outside and I�ll bring it to you. How do you want it?�

Large black and sweet,� I said, groping in my robe for some money.

She stood with her hands on her immense hippo hips, and watched me.

With tears in my eyes, and despair in my heart, I had to confess, �I don�t have any money.�

�Get loss.�

What happened next is a blur, but they say I screamed and charged the waitress knocking her into a Sheriff�s Deputy splashing his coffee all over his finely pressed uniform.

The next thing I knew, head spinning, I was standing in front of a Police Sergeant at the local precinct.

You got any identification? He asked.

Coffee,� I murmured. The Sergeant waved at a patrolman. �Get this guy a cup of coffee.�

�Can�t Sarge, our machine is not working. We got juice.�

I fainted.