The Fall Flavor Conspiracy

Dear readers, it pains me to even type these words. I know you normally come to me for laughs and a good time, but this week has been a whirlwind of betrayal, brewing fear, and the certain knowledge that humanity is on the brink of chaos. Yes, I, Winston, a French Bulldog of discerning taste, have uncovered a conspiracy so wicked, so fall-adjacent, it could lead to the very downfall of society.

Brace yourselves: Starbucks did not bring back the Apple Crisp flavored drinks this year.

The day I learned about the tragedy started like any other. I had just spent a few minutes at my water bowl—though, let’s be honest, I was wishing it were the toilet instead (curse you, mother, for always closing the bathroom door). With that disappointment behind me, I headed to the couch, ready to settle in for a long day of serious napping. My paw had just touched the cushion when I overheard my humans talking. At first, it seemed like casual chatter, but then I heard the words that stopped me in my tracks: Starbucks didn’t bring back the Apple Crisp flavors this year.

I froze. Then, without warning, I threw my head back and howled—a raw, guttural cry of devastation. My heart felt like it had been shattered into a million tiny pieces. Betrayed. Heartbroken. It was as though someone had yanked a freshly roasted turkey leg straight from my jaws. How could they do this? To us? To the true flavor connoisseurs of the world?

Defeated, I slumped onto the couch, my once-cozy retreat now a place of sorrow. A tear or two may have rolled down my furry cheek as I spiraled deeper into despair. I had nearly resigned myself to a life of aimless couch-lounging when a far darker thought crossed my mind: What if the Apple Crisp was just the beginning? What if they came for Pumpkin Spice next?

The very idea sent a shiver through me. No Pumpkin Spice? No frothy, aromatic lattes? No whipped cream clouds sprinkled with nutmeg and cinnamon? What would autumn even be without it? A cold, joyless wasteland of bland nothingness, that’s what. The horror was too much to bear. I threw my head back and howled relentlessly until I sunk into a restless sleep.

And life just hasn’t been the same since, dear readers. I can already hear some of you telling me I was being overdramatic, but I’m telling you that this flavor fiasco is not just an autumnal inconvenience—it’s a symptom of a greater disease plaguing humanity. Today, it’s Apple Crisp. Tomorrow, Pumpkin Spice. And before you know it, we’ll be slurping cold, lifeless oat milk lattes with no seasonal pizzazz whatsoever. This world is teetering on the edge, my friends. One caffeinated misstep, and it’s all downhill from here.

Let me make this crystal clear: if they dare take away Pumpkin Spice, I’ll lead the revolt myself. We’ll call it the Pumpkin Revolution. Signs, barks, cute little vests embroidered with protest slogans—the whole shebang. This isn’t just about beverages anymore; it’s about preserving the very soul of fall.

So, prepare yourselves, dear readers. Should the Pumpkin Revolution become necessary, I’ll need every single one of you on the front lines. Dust off your coziest scarves and brew pots of spiced cider. The battle for autumn isn’t just my fight—it’s yours too.

Keep following my blog for updates on the downfall of society and, most importantly, on how to save it. Meanwhile, enjoy your Pumpkin Spice while it lasts, and think of me with every delicious sip.

Until next time, sip responsibly and stay vigilant.

With cinnamon-kissed love and unparalleled brilliance,

Winston 🐾