A mystical device of ritual importance, the operational procedure of a Choco Pump is a complete unknown to me. It tried to communicate with me, and I stood silent.

I do know what happens when the Choco Pump doesn't work: the coffee machine in my office gets all pissy and dispenses nothing but muddy water when I press the button for Double Cream Mocha.

Then it has the gall to tell me: Choco Pump Malfunction.

Mmmm. Unpleasing.

On a side-ish note, it shouldn't take too much deductive reasoning on my part to associate choco with chocolate and thus know exactly what the damn Choco Pump is for. But my mind refuses. With all the Final Fantasy being played in my house as of late the only thing the phrase Choco Pump brings to mind is a giant factory producing nothing but small and large, yellow and blue and green and black chickens. Some of these chickens I can ride, and I do often. But none of them bring me a Double Cream Mocha.


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