24 April 2013

Green Message in a Bottle

I love a good mystery.

After work today I thought a drink would be nice. "What the fuck should I drink today?" I asked myself as I shuffled clinky bottles around in my bar.

Decisions, decisions.

Whereupon I discovered my flask, shining like the imperfectly placed stainless steel plate in Christy Clark's skull. Been so long since I drank out of it I had forgotten what was sloshing around inside when I gave it a little shake to make sure it was not empty. Figuring there was whisky inside I got myself a glass and poured.

It was not whisky after all. It was absinthe. Taboo. I added water and it clouded up invitingly.

Get yourself a bottle before the play-offs begin. If you are a Canucks fan, get yourself a case.



Danneau said...

Absinthe, you and Rimbaud all the way.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Rimbaud, whose influential presence has not gained him a mention in the Dope City Free Press until today, was once part of my life. The French are nearly always such bad influences. His poetry is still with me in my house. I have not returned to his words for three an a half decades. My readers, wiser than me by far, have been quick to turn my attention to subjects I have, in time, benefitted from. Thanks Danneau. Thanks Rimbaud. Thanks Taboo. Let's all get fucked up together and see shit on Friday.