Short story - I was talking to an old lady a few weeks ago in the Midwest (USA). Modern daze. She was a mild ol' lady. I was drinking a black coffee, as I do, and asked her if she wanted one, too. She was a pleasant ol' lady, and told me a pleasant story. "When I was a kid," she started wryly, "I was lucky, because my mamma let us drink coffee, and most of the kids couldn't. So I used to drink quite a bit of coffee ..." I smiled, thinking some smoothe nestalgik story was about to transpire. "But then someone told me at the bus stop one day that drinking black coffee would turn me black, and that was the day I stopped drinking coffee." Gulp. Oh, great. A bigot in our midst. Didn't have the heart to tell her that Jesus was black, too. Subtle. I sighed, knowing she was much too old to change her wicked ways. I ordered another black beauty, smiled and let it all sink into me, and looked in the mirror. Peace. -Todd