TEA BAGS
He had sat down to a nice mug of tea, George Ford that is. The tea bag was left floating in the mug, its string hanging over the side of the mug, George watches the time, then the mug, he is very precise about his mug of tea, three minutes immersion no more no less.
With a chirpy expression of 'Ahh!' he reaches across to take hold of the string and pull the tea bag out, time is up, his mug of tea is ready. Then it all went rather odd, he pulled at the string, but the tea bag appeared to descend to the bottom of the mug, unwilling to be lifted out. George gives a gentle tug yet is surprised he feels a tug back and the string slips from his fingers disappearing into the tea filled mug. 'Oh drat!' he exclaims reaching for a teaspoon to retrieve the tea bag. Into the mug he dips the teaspoon in, moving it around to find the teabag, without any success at all, much to his annoyance. It was then suddenly the teaspoon disappeared into the mug as if tugged from Georges fingers. He looked alarmed, his eyes transfixed at the mug of tea. 'Oh my merry aunt, I cannot believe this.' he exclaims grabbing a desert spoon, anxiously stirring it around to retrieve both teaspoon and teabag. To his astonished amazement the desert spoon is tugged as he holds it, 'Good god what is going on.' In one fell tug, and a splash of tea, the desert spoon disappears into the dark mug of tea, with a dull clang as it does.
'Impossible!' George shouts, as he stares into the mug of tea, both annoyed and confused, the desert spoon was longer than the mug, it could not disappear, he pondered.
By now the tea in Georges eyes was looking far too strong, he had also gone off the idea, more confused with the loss of a desert spoon, a tea spoon and a tea bag on a string. 'Hmm?' he decides in an annoyed gruff gesture, lifting the mug off of the table and carrying it to the kitchen sink, there he tips the tea out watching for the desert spoon, the tea spoon and the teabag on a string, yet only tea poured out.
He looked at the sink, then looked into the mug, confused and lost for any rational explanation.
It was then he felt inside the mug with his fingers, illogical if you could see nothing, but he felt it was necessary, disbelieving what his eyes seemed to not be seeing. It was then he felt as though his fingers had been grabbed and he was being pulled into the mug, which is what happened. First his fingers, then his hand, followed by his arm. He shouted for help but he was alone in the house and seemed unable to break free from the grip now pulling his arm, soon his shoulder was pulled into the mug followed by his head, then his whole body, his knees, shins and feet, they all disappeared into the mug.
More confusing was where George now found himself, sitting in a large field, a tea plantation, surrounded by many Indian women standing, looking at him sitting there with a desert spoon, a teaspoon and a tea bag on a string. They talked among themselves in local dialect, then one asked him in clearly spoken English, 'Would you like a cup of tea?' Lost for words and somewhat unable to gather his thoughts he replied, 'That would be very nice.'
The rest of what happened is all a little uncertain, George recalls only waking up sitting on his kitchen floor surrounded by a mug, a desert spoon, a teaspoon and a soggy teabag on a string.
From that day to this, George has only drunk instant coffee.
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