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A Misinterpretation Over Alcohol

As I stare out into the fog ensnared city, I nurse my dram and ponder the nuances of life.

I look up and watch a lady walk determinedly into the bar.

She looks cold and exhausted and is edgy and anxious. Her hackneyed demeanour blatantly contradicts her otherwise vibrant beauty. She sits down and heaves a sigh. All of a sudden, her mobile starts ringing, and she makes a grab for it. Out of nowhere, she feels a powerful and familiar hand snatching her ‘life’ away from her.

A stranger next to her switches off her device and lays it face down on the table. The phone seems to be taunting her, and she appears to want to make a grab for it. “Who could it have been? Was it her husband? Who is this stranger by her side?” I wrack my brain. “Does she need help?” …


Rita is preoccupied and her fixation seems side-tracked by the sudden whiff a familiarity.

Her first run-in with the now familiar stout aureate liquid was humiliating to say the least, and yet it was nothing short of supernatural. It was an experience that jump-started her adult life.

She can’t help but remember those days of indulgence, the flowing booze and unabatedly chronic revelry. It brings a tepid smirk to her countenance. The past is remembered fondly, the present is endured diagnostically, but the near future is anticipated with bated breath.

As she delicately takes her first sip, she’s teleported into the fantasia of wonderous oblivion. The liquid infuses to her cold and overworked body with a sense of warmth and relaxation. It is the elixir for her indolent mind. The touch of vanilla, the hint of peat and the emotive bouquet of her father’s tobacco pipe make for an invigorating reawakening. The alcohol injects in her a renewed vitality and her beauty brims forth. Every sip is like music to her ears. First a guitar, then the Bass and finally the entire orchestra, plays for her. And like a phoenix, she flies out of the ashes of her immediate past. She’s drifting…

The man at her side sits grinning, patiently allowing her climax to take its course. He knows that he was responsible for it all.

“Congratulations Rita, on your promotion. Wow! Madame CEO; I knew you’d do it.” he enunciates mischievously. “Thanks Dad. You and mum being here over the holidays is the best thing I could have ever asked for.” Was her affectionate reply…


I look at the father and daughter, enormously glad and a little bit relieved. They are soon joined by her husband and mother, and enjoy each other’s company, their respective drinks and their collective happiness.

My wife looks at me knowingly; she thought the same. We laugh uproariously and clink our glasses. The alcohol making our night out a whole lot more animated and adventurous.

Alcohol is more than something you drink. It is the acme of your memories, the stimulant to your lassitude and the gratification of all the good things in your life. It is a bit of the stars, mixed in water and bottled just for you and those you love.

So, celebrate with it, enjoy its headiness and stay responsible.





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