That feeling when you bring a coffee cup to the temp job out of a desire to walk lightly on the earth, and then encounter a brightly-lit dungeon of K-Cups waiting for the sweet kiss of death from the dread Vampire Keurig. Or is it that the Keurig is merely the mechanical fang, and it is I who am wordlessly invited to be the vampire temp, draining the cups as I drain the earth and pollute it with plastic corpses. Or maybe I should just get some work done.












