[Conversation from last night.]
Honey, fix me a drink? If you look in the kitchen, I bought all kinds of condiments to make drinks with – olives, oranges, cherries, limes, lemons…
We’re out of bourbon.
Oh, shit. I didn't know. It wasn't on the grocery list. Well, surprise me. I like anything you fix me.
What about a Gin Fizz?
Umm… Do we have any rum?
Yeah, we’ve got everything except bourbon. Lemme see what I can come up with.
[Sounds of bottles being moved around. Refrigerator door opens and closes. More movement in the kitchen. The sound of ice in a shaker.]
Here. Try this. I chilled the glass beforehand.
[Old-fashioned glass appears on the table with an amber liquid and a half-dollar size thinly sliced piece of lemon rind. The smell of scotch fills the immediate area. The mental drink catalogue knows what it is without sipping it. Glass to lips, the burn softened by the vermouth, feel the throat warm up as the drink goes down.]
Oh, that’s good.
I used the 10-year [-old single malt].
[Some days call for a cocktail. Some days call for two. From the week I had with my volunteer “job”, I may go through that entire fifth before the weekend is over. Good thing Santa brought him two fifths.]
the Democratic Idea is False
4 hours ago