Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

When this coffee arrived at my doorstep, I knew the time had come for me to finally eschew my life that had come before this day and, finally, become a man. Opening the safely packaged box that surrounded the bag of ground energy, I was both exhilarated and frightened. The black package, the skull-and-crossbones, all spoke of the certainty of the product I was about to imbibe. I was taken aback by the package itself, the top sealed even after the plastic tines kept it rolled down and some type of circle, as though I were expected to jab a syringe into this bag, perhaps to use as an IV, stared at me. I thought, in my childishness, this must be some terrible secret to which I was not yet privy. Hanging my head in shame, I accepted that some things would come in time, and used a pair of safety scissors - the only type my infantile self was allowed to handle - to open the bag and access the heavenly aromas within. For my first trip into the realms of adulthood, I knew some precautions need be taken. I wore three pairs of pants that day, for safety, and began carefully measuring the amount of grinds into my coffee maker before realizing I was too ignorant to measure these things correctly and simply filled the filter. This, I would later learn, was the most approved method of coffee making and was my first instinctual attempt into manhood. In only five minutes I had a steaming cup of coffee and, I shamefully admit, I was afraid. Accepting that I was still young, I applied a healthy amount of milk and two scoops of sugar to my cup. Rather than the calming, youthful tan of other coffees, Death Wish brand coffee understood my weakness and would not allow itself to be brought down to my level. Instead, it would elevate me despite my attempts at self-sabotage. The milk granted my coffee a grey pallor, indeed as though the skull and crossbones from the packaging were attempting to form inside my cup; the sugar either dissolved totally or was completely erased from this physical plane, I am still not certain. Accepting that the trip into pubescence was fraught with many a peril, I again hung my head in shame before drinking deep from my elixir. In the five days hence, I have had to shave ten times, my shirts ill fit, and my friends do not recognize me for my rippling Adonis-like physique. I hold three full time jobs, have built two homes with my bear hands (indeed, almost more claw and hair than actual hand, truly these are the paws of a great feral beast with which I share this message), and have sired a dozen children. Perhaps man was not meant to ascend these lofty heights so swiftly. Perhaps the brand name of this brew is less a boast and more a warning. Perhaps. But that spectre cannot reach me now, not so long as I keep the pot hot and the filter cleaned. Thank you, Death Wish coffee. Thank you for making me all I could be, and all I should not.