“Evenin’ gents,” Scotch said.
“We’re not all gents,” Vermouth replied. (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
Welcome back to Tuesday’s Tale, a weekly feature where we collaborate to write a story. Previous Tuesday’s Tales include Midspring Misdemeanors: Piddling Froth and Olympic Trials. We follow the basic rules of the “Yes, And” improvisational game – accept everything written so far as part of the story, and add your own paragraph (or so) where the last addition left off – except you needn’t begin your addition with “Yes, and.” I’ll start the story….
Note: Today’s tale is a conversation between the bottles behind the bar. Any resemblance to conversations between humans at the bar is … not entirely coincidental.
“My apologies, gentle lady,” Scotch said.
Vermouth tsked. “I’m smooth, not gentle.”
“Eeev-ninnn’ gennnts,” Gin said.
“You gotta excuse him,” Bourbon said. “He’s slow. And sometimes fizzy.”
Tequila spoke up. “Buenos noches, mi amigos!”
“This is America,” Bourbon said. “Speak English.”
“Si, this is America,” Tequila said, “but I was bottled in Mexico.”
“Immigrants,” Bourbon muttered.
“Guys, if you’re gonna fight, take it outside,” Rum warned.
“Who made you the boss?” Gin asked.
“The owner,” Rum said. “He invested in my bottling plant.”
“And just how are we supposed to take it outside?” Bourbon asked. “We’re bottles. We have no legs! Just bodies and necks and mouths.”
“I have a head,” Beer said.
Photo Credit: BestOfPictures.com