Said the bartender, “Another beer?”
Rep[y I: No thanks. After three beers I want
to go out and cop some drugs, a wild woman and some bad whiskey.
And I continued: but I have one-out-of-three, kinda, at home.
Her eyebrow on the left side rose in a natural, not-drawn, arch.
“The problem is,” I continued.
“Is that it’s all wrong.
It’s a bottle of 21-year-old Irish single malt. Bushmill’s
and it’s so damned expensive I can afford only
a shot or so every six weeks!”