Mr. Coffeepot of Doom

I have an old coffeemaker. It's perfectly sufficient for its purpose: as a nasal alarm clock (and as a brewer of the elixir of life.)

Normally, we shut off the behemoth once it's brewed it's pot. This morning, however, I didn't get it turned off right away and it's just 12 feet away from where I keep my computer. So I'm sitting here, cruising the web, and hearing, frankly, what sounds like the sound reel of a bad science-fiction thriller in which the alien bad guy is skulking around near the main cast members who are so busy masking their obvious physical attraction for each other with repeated jibes back and forth that they don't see his inept efforts at sneaking around. The hisses and low-pitched whines of steam issuing forth at irregular intervals are actually quite paranoia-inducing.

Watch out! He's right there! Oh my goodness, he's going to grab her!! Don't you see the trail of ooze!?!

Thanks for the double-whammy of awakeness, Mr. Coffeepot of Doom.