"I call it," Mort said, pausing to spread his arms out as if the words were emblazoned on a marquee, "kopi luwak!"
Buford recoiled in disgust. "Hell, sounds like some kinda drippy penis syndrome, Mort. Son of a bitch! That's gotta be the worst goddamn name for anything that's ever beset my ears! What the hell is it anyway? Is it gonna give me DPS, Mort? Is it?!"
Mitch propelled himself towards the coffee station with determination. After placing his #2 Dad mug on the counter, he unsheathed the carafe from its warmer. He took a moment to take in the earthen scent. It reminded him of Nova Scotia, where he had run into a guy who had seen a movie about a guy who had been in the CIA. Mitch wondered what had happened to that guy.
Benny plopped his bookbag atop the living room credenza. His parents were visible in the kitchen beyond, blissfully unaware of the shocking revelation he was about to plop onto them, like so many bookbags atop so many credenzas.
All was quiet in the Kendwoor system, but Captain Dastard F'udge found it deafening. His fingdigits danced upon the compinterface, activating the bridge's cerulean noise generation matrix. It calmed him somewhat.
He'd been in this new body for only a few millennia but it was already displaying the telltale signs of entropic undoing. The goblintestines were shot, the mercurenal glands faltering and misfiring. Sometimes he found it difficult to kreen onto any one hypernotion for more than a few nexizeconds.