Tastebud Annihilation

Ladies & Gentlemen, I bill you for a Peppermint Mocha.
May the creators of this esteemed beverage live a thousand years and bask in three hundred gallons of jersey cows' milk. This right here, is the drink of champions. Man, I'm hooked. I've had a few gulps last year, but this holiday season I have been frequenting Starbucks with the renewed vigor of a walrus at sea. Even if the line is a mile long, I tend to demonstrate the patience of a 16th century fire hydrant and the enthusiasm of a turn signal light bulb. I want one! I want one!

Each time, I order a tall one with two extra shots (no whip, of course, whipped cream is for sissies) and when I'm halfway done I wish I had asked for a grande. I think I'm going to fry in hell for being this carnal. But this particular beverage right here; yes this one, gets me going like a parking violation officer who's found sixty three BMWs parked in the red zone. Go get yourself one, tell me it isn't true. Don't get it with the whip or the crystals though. It'll make you look like a overgrown schoolgirl with braided sideburns. Sip the beverage gently as the taste of chocolate swirls in your oral adapter that has longed for years of good taste; and just when you think you will knead your cheeks with both hands, this sensational taste-fest is neutralized by the calming effect of peppermint. Little explosions of mint frolic away as the beverage finds it way down your glorified esophagus. For the first two minutes, swirl it nice and gently. Yes, there you go! Doesn't it feel like you are Fidel Castro? That's it! Apart from that, indulge. And then with your arms wide open and your tongue hanging loose run face first into a wall, like I do.