Neon lights shine like the electric stars outside of a big city night club as an icy rain clatters to the cobblestone street.  An ominous telephone rings somewhere in the house as your television projects pure static.  A woman in a crimson red dress sits in front of a fair sized mirror applying her candy apple lipstick preparing for her night on the terrible town that lays fifty stories below her penthouse suite.
    You're at a party and everything is going fine, the music is lively, the drinks are chilled but what is it??? A strange pale faced man with opiate eyes steps forth and states the the two of you are acquainted but try as you might you can place the odd figure, in his oil black designer suit and that cursed smile, WHO the heck is this guy?  There is a decrepit wooden cabin out in the woods somewhere, hidden within the brush and thicket, it is the home of the ancient evil siren who bewitches young men and imprisons them forever, her spells are songs and dirge ballads that ring trough the air like an alto saxophone.  The Hotel room was cheap and rank with acrid cigarette smoke, causing the slightest of pains in your head as you grew nauseous.  You began to wonder what others stories this room has seen, what other romances, how many deaths? An asylum is the home to a dark biochemical warfare experimentation, each patient only a subject to new tests as the drugs and defibrillators turn their grotesque dreams into frightening realities.
    And all of this took place with the three minutes that your coffee was brewing, it was all a bold dark fantasy distracting you from the even darker grim reality that is everyday life.  And thats really what the dark roast is, a fog filled, stobe lit trancendtal vacation from normality.  Mr. gran, AkA the Mystery Man is merely a conduit, a barista if you will, who grinds the beans and turns them into warm black magic with cream, sugar and a bit of espresso for that extra boost.
    Mystery Man's attire consists of different suits, a trenchcoat here and there, fedoras, derby caps, and sharp shoes.  He's almost like one of those manic depressives detectives who listens to big band music and drives around in an old blaack cadillac.  You know the type, they sit in  diners reading books that they never finish and writing cryptic poetry that nobody will ever read.  The Mystery Man is a lonely character who doesn't speak much and when he does, the words come out all wrong. So, he speaks through his microphone and disply his heart through his music whether it be classical, heavy metal or alternative.
    Grab a coffee mug and get some of the Dark Roast as we transcend further into mystery