The Factory

There once was a factory of the most extraordinary kind, the most exclusive and amazing kind. It was a gin factory. But it did not only produce gin, oh my no, but every kind of delicious booze and aid to consuming booze that a person could possibly conceive. This factory was created and run by a man who was almost as extraordinary as the factory he had created, a man so mysterious that he was only known by the name ‘Ole Grandpa’. Adorning every bottle of alcohol that left this mysterious, exclusive factory was his grave image sternly looking upon the purchaser, warning them to drink responsibly, but also with a certain twinkle in the eye, as if to add “Hey, but if you’re not driving then have another!” The factory itself was of such a mysterious nature because no one had been inside of it for decades. The former employees were all roundly fired and the place even shut down for a few agonizingly long years due to a lawsuit with another liquor developer whose name shall not be mentioned nor whose whiskey deplored. Ole Grandpa became so disgusted with a world that cared more about licensing than good liquor that at first he thought to refuse his product to everyone. And then one day, with no word to anyone, the smells of sour mash brewing and orders for fresh produce began to pour from the factory. The booze flowed, the people rejoiced, but still the gates remained closed to the general public.

Meet Gerry

In contrast to the extraordinary mystery of Ole Grandpa’s amazing factory was Gerry. A most ordinary, a most plain, a most refreshingly simple, alcoholic. So great was his love for the warm glow of a good gin drink that he moved away from his simple life in a small town and sought far and wide for the best type of booze he could find. What found him was Ole Grandpa’s amazing array of liquor. It was the only thing he would drink, caring not a bit for manners or feelings when he refused to drink anything less. Unless of course he was drunk or broke, in which case he would drink anything. Gerry had long ago adapted to drinking at lower elevations and had thus been forced to progressively move to higher elevations each time his body adapted to the endless font that was his habit. This constant march towards the sun, to higher places that had less oxygen and thus Gerry could still remain drunk, had resulted in his living in a very shabby shack on a very shabby mountain with a very shabby job doing yardwork. So remote was his home that he did not even hear about the contest proposed by Ole Grandpa. A most extraordinary contest, a most amazing one. Concealed within four bottles of liquor was a golden ticket, a ticket that would give entry to the one place countless few desired to see but had all been denied: the Gin Factory!

The Other Contestants

Across the world the four bottles of booze went, each containing a special ticket that would grant the bearer access to the Gin Factory. The first ticket was found by a most unlikely fellow: a frat boy named Walter. What made it so unlikely was how rarely Walter could afford the expense and grand taste of Ole Grandpa’s spectacular drinks. He had just been rejected by a bridesmaid at the wedding of a rather affluent family and stole the bottle from the bar. Sitting alone in the bushes by a gazebo, contemplating who would be the most interested in a midnight golf course ‘putting session’, he discovered the strange ticket and pocketed it without the slightest recognition. He awoke the next morning, still in the bushes, and was almost able to overcome his hangover at the joy of discovering the pass into the world’s most renown alcohol distillery and the mention of a prize on the ticket. One of the attendee’s would be receiving a lifetime supply of alcohol! The next to discover the prize was a slightly more likely person. In fact, it was no shock to anyone in the neighborhood or to his immediate family when he found the next ticket in a bottle of whiskey. Unfortunately, the man who found it also happened to be quite intoxicated and believing it to be a coupon for some ‘ass-licking bullshit fairy crap’ threw it into a burning trash pile. Unbeknownst to the man, his young son watched him and was quick to rush up and grab the ticket before any damage could be done. The boy’s name was Chatpers and he was twelve. Responding to Ole Grandpa’s website with the correct ID code on the back of the ticket, he confirmed that he was indeed twenty-one but that he would like someone to come in his place. The third person to discover the ticket was sorta kinda maybe as likely as the other two. Her name was Jonah, and she was a woman whose tastes in alcohol were so refined that she only drank Ole Grandpa’s liquors in the most dire of shortages of Chartreuse or Pinot Noir. While grumbling about the poor quality of the Vodka they had purchased she discovered the ticket and after offering it to all her friends (they politely refused such an unseemly trip) decided that it could perhaps be interesting. The only thing that concerned Jonah after that was what to wear.

Gerry Finds the Ticket!

The fourth and final ticket was in fact not technically found by Gerry. It was found by Greg. How close our story came to revolving around Greg and his misadventures in the Gin Factory, how boring it would have been! For you see, Greg was a Mormon and he found the ticket when he took a bottle of gin from an old bum while on his mission. Upon discovering the ticket, Greg realized both that he could in no way attend such a sinful place and could also with no safe conscience give it to someone else. So he balled up it and threw it into the snow, continuing on his way while oblivious to the wheels he had set in motion. For Gerry was working harder than ever in people’s yards, from sun up until sundown. The explanation for his sudden capacity to get up early was that the alcohol was no longer working. The reason he needed more money and thus work more was that the alcohol was no longer working. He had to buy more and more of Ole Grandpa’s fine whiskey and gin just to keep a buzz up. Yet all the while his liver merrily chugged on as if the debilitating fluids were mere water. Even the most seasoned and ball-busting of police officers in his little mountain town wouldn’t arrest him for public intoxication anymore. Shoveling away at yet another driveway while musing over what possible concoction he could create that would get him inebriated, Gerry happened upon the ticket! Pulling the soggy article out of the snow he gave it a brief shake and was about to chuck it into the road when he paused to read what it said. “Free tour of Ole Grandpa’s Liquor Factory!” he read aloud. Gerry shrugged and threw the ticket in the road. It was not until he had finished up and was walking out the driveway that he noticed it again and this time the back of the ticket as well. The prize, a lifetime’s supply of booze to one lucky touree, caused Gerry’s heart to drop in his chest. Here was his very salvation, his very cure for all his woes! All the booze he could ever drink!

The Contestants Arrive

Each of the contestants had their own method of getting to the small New Jersey town where the Gin Factory was built. Walter borrowed a fraternity brother’s SUV without asking. Jonah flew and took a limo from the airport and failed to tip the driver when he deposited her at the casinos in Atlantic City (a reasonable distance from the Factory, naturally). Chatpers set out from his small South Carolina town with only a bandana on a stick. He had twelve dollars that he had been saving and managed to get a drunk hobo to trade a bus ticket for twelve dollars and a whiskey bottle filled with iced tea. Gerry scavenged his house for every empty can he could find and recycled them, making enough money for both plane ticket and airport drinks. On the morning that the actual tour was to take place a small gathering formed outside the factory. It would be inappropriate to say there was a large gathering, because in order for a gathering to be large it must contain people who are simply standing about because other people are standing about. A small gathering consists only of people who know what is going on. A few old men, a gathering of emo kids wearing black nail polish, a few retired frat boys. The somber fans of Old Grandpa were gathered to wish on the lucky few that had broken into a shrine sacred to only a handful and protected by the world’s complete apathy. What, really, was the big deal about touring a Gin Factory? Not even a reporter from the local newspaper attended the event, though several radio DJs in Hoboken had done a fantastic redneck phone joke about a guy finding a ticket in the disposal then losing his hand. As each of the contestants appeared at the gates, all on time more or less, there was only the slightest hush to contain the noise of the outside world continuing on. But by some mysticism, it was enough. Only appropriate, considering how extraordinary a factory it really was.

Ole Grandpa Appears

The gates of the factory, which had remained closed for some time now, gave a sudden shudder and began to open. The creak was outrageous as rust and steel grinded together for the first time in ages. So outrageous that no one noticed the old man who appeared adorned in the strangest outfit anyone had seen in fifty years. When heads turned back from covering their ears and their eyes opened in recovery, they saw a man wearing a red cardigan and golfing pants. With loafers. And smoking a pipe. It was precisely fifty years since anyone had seen such a strange outfit because it seemed to be an outfit right out of the fifties. The strange man stepped forward and boomed in voice that sounded oddly reminiscent of a Clark Gable impersonation, “Hello, gang. I’m Ole Grandpa! Welcome…to the Gin Factory!” His arms went wide and he exhaled a great cloud of smoke. The chimney stacks and steel work seemed to take on a new light to the four contestants. Each one, in their own way, had never really thought much about the actual tour part of the contest, and it suddenly dawned to each that they would at the very least be seeing the place where every bottle of Ole Grandpa liquor came from. The first to speak was Walter, “Holy shit bro, I’m finally gonna see the place where they make the vodka! I’m gonna teabag EVERYTHING in this factory. That way, when someone drinks Ole Grandpa, they drink my balls!” No one particularly responded to this comment, but it did cause Gerry to cough a bit to cover up a laugh. Ole Grandpa was still standing before them in fifties regalia and seemed to be waiting for a comment that had some chance of a better response. He shuffled his feet and finally pronounced, “Well, you must be the four lucky winners! Do you have any questions before we step inside?” The four looked at one another and shrugged, much to Ole Granpa’s disappointment. Finally little Chatpers piped up, “Um, so why do you call it a Gin Factory if it makes every kind of alcohol?” Many heads in the crowd perked up at this, as did Gerry and Walter’s. Jonah rummaged in her purse for another cigarette. Ole Grandpa blinked and look around the crowd, his first chance at an audience in years. He took a drag on his pipe and gave a very thoughtful expression. “Because a gin hangover is the closest a person can come to death without actually dying.” The heads remained perked, though mainly out of confusion. With that, Ole Grandpa turned and waved for the four contestants to follow him in. The still-perked heads went back down due to the outrageous squeal of the gates closing.

Inside at Last

The group passed through the factory doors and entered a room that bore a startling resemblance to a soda fountain. Checkered floors, a teenage boy wiping the counter in a red apron, and a young blonde girl wearing a poodle skirt smiling at him as he worked. Gerry’s eyes grew wide as he saw rows upon rows of Ole Grandpa liquor behind the counter. Brands he’d never even heard of before, like cherry moonshine and Freedom Whiskey. Before anyone even had to ask Ole Grandpa clapped his hands and the teenager behind the counter jumped to attention. “Any drink you can name, drink it on ice or drink it plain. Never a bad time to have a drink, even if you’ve already talked to the kitchen sink!” Ole Granpda said before sitting down at the counter and receiving a bottle of whiskey from his employee. Everyone joined him and ordered something. Walter had the best vodka on the shelf mixed with cranberry juice, Gerry had a whiskey on ice with water and lemon, little Chatpers a little Shirley Temple, and Jonah a gin martini. There was a brief silence as everyone drank a little more deeply than normal to relax the awkwardness of stepping into a 50’s esque diner on a liquor factory tour. “Well, I suppose this gin is bearable, but you simply must try this brand from France. For only 80 dollars you ca-“ Jonah pronounced to no one in particular. She was interrupted by Ole Granpda as he slammed down his bottle, having drained a fairly impressive amount, and exclaimed: “No need to worry about alcohol from France, my dear. Brewed with far too much desire for money and suffering to ever get beyond the realm of fancy packaging. Now then!” Ole Grandpa jumped to his feet, walked over to Chatpers who was in mid-sip and tilted it forward, causing him to guzzle the whole thing. “Everyone, everyone. It is such an honor to have you on this most magnificent tour of my factory! Now if you would all please finish your drinks. Yes yes, rather quickly. Good, ah refills then. The paper cups, if you please. Very good. Now then, we are all here for a bit of an escape, are we not? Perhaps something of a bigger escape? Yes, indeed, for what else is alcohol for but escape, but easing our tired eyes looking upon such a tired world?” Ole Grandpa paused for a reaction. Again, a rather odd silence as no one quite knew what to say. Finally Walter broke the silence, “Fucking-A Bro.”

The Rules

“Those little comments of yours would be better suited on bathroom walls, my dear boy. And yet every wall is a bathroom for a man with enough whiskey in him. Very well, as I was saying: We are about to embark on a tour. I’m afraid most of this will be occurring underground, where my employees live and brew the liquor you consume at this very moment. Here on the ground floor is all that silly packaging and shipping business. All of that is handled by robots and whatnot. In fact, the whole factory used to be manned by robots until I started hiring people again. At any rate, there are just a few simple rules while being here. You must sample a bit of everything, for no one likes to be sober around a drunk person. Consider that rule for your own good, especially you my little young friend.” Ole Grandpa wagged a finger at Chatpers and pointed at a cherry liquor being added to his Shirley Temple. Chatpers blinked and looked a bit confused at an adult making him drink alcohol, took a brief tentative sip, and then smiled for everyone to see. “That’s a good boy! Now, the second rule is that you will please not disturb any of the workers, only observe. Part of the reason they are down here is for privacy and peace, which I give them in exchange for their labor. When we do speak to them, if you could please refrain from mentioning the outside world, especially other types of liquor unless you consider it an inferior one.” At this Jonah sniffed and turned her attention to the olives in her martini, looking away from Ole Granpa. “And the third rule is, keep your eyes wide and your smiles wider! After all, the one eyed man has no more business ruling the kingdom of the blind than a person does not having fun in a liquor factory. Off we go!” The group all stood, little Chatpers a bit too fast and Jonah a bit too slow, and all filed behind Ole Grandpa while towing their paper cups of alcohol. Only Gerry remained behind for a brief moment, a look of worry on his face before asking the kid behind the counter for one more refill as he downed the drink.

The Great Elevator

They proceeded down a long corridor, plain white walls on either side and plain white lights illuminating the way. Ole Grandpa said nothing as they walked while the sound of footsteps mixed with clinking. Then they finally entered a large room with a red floor and a single panel over in a corner. Chairs were all around and people began to sit out of almost habit. As the last person filed in, everyone still silent, Ole Grandpa leaned down and whispered to Chatpers, “Ah yes, good. No small talk. If small talk got us intoxicated then we’d all be running for president. Isn’t that right my boy?” Chatpers had long ago gotten over trying to figure out anything Ole Grandpa said and only gave his most enthusiastic nod. “You are all currently sitting in one of my most fantastic inventions. The Great Elevator! Designed and built by myself and my workers, this elevator can take us anywhere in the factory without a single person even noticing us if we choose. Now before I go on are there are any questions?” Gerry was beginning to feel like he was in high school again, knowing that there was one particular question Ole Grandpa was hunting for and not having the foggiest what that could be. Jonah finally made the attempt, “Why don’t we want anyone to see us in this elevator?” Ole Grandpa flipped around and began pressing buttons on the panel. “How does it make us invisible you ask? How?! Why through the miracle of science! You see, by specially treating certain copper and aluminum alloys with an alcohol solution, you can break down their ‘atoms’ and enable endless possibilities!” With that, suddenly the walls began to shrink inside the elevator and close in around the group. Chairs shifted on the floor as the very metal paneling underneath then twisted and turned, seeming almost like liquid one moment and then ice the next. In a matter of moments, the room had transformed into a giant De Soto. Cherry Red. With a lurch, the ‘Great Elevator’ began descending downwards. “Anymore questions?”

Underground City

The De Soto descended on a giant platform down farther and farther into the dark tunnel. A bright light suddenly entered everyone’s eyes and Chatpers gave a little gasp. There, spread out in a gigantic cavern, was an entire city. “Yes, yes. It’s quite amazing, is it not?” Ole Grandpa mused. Walter spoke for everyone when he said, “Holy fucking shit bro.” Even Gerry winced a little bit this time, seeing the look of annoyance on Ole Grandpa’s face as yet another moment was taken from him. “What, um, how did you build it all?” Gerry asked. Ole Grandpa gave a nod of approval, checked the instruments to make sure their descent was still proceeding normally, and stood up in the driver’s seat. “How? How do you ask? How did we get Highways and Bi-ways down here? Little scrapers and cave scrapers, for down here we are far from the sky, how did we bring all this here? Why with the very same ‘science’ that constructed this magnificent elevator!” Ole Grandpa held up his drink for a toast, and after an even briefer pause than the groups last awkward moment (they were catching on) they all toasted him back. “Excuse me, Mr. Ole Grandpa Sir, but is the ‘great elevator’ the platform we’re on or the De Soto?” Little Chatpers asked. Ole Grandpa paused with a look as if no one had ever proposed this concept to him before. Gerry was already tuning all of this out, as he had drained his drink on the toast and was now staring out the window at the grand city. Little cars were driving around, and as the elevator sank lower and lower one could begin to make out people walking around as well. A glance up showed that light was provided by a beacon built into the top of the cavern ceiling and somehow the illusion of blue skies was created with giant sheets of canvas. “I am referring to the De Soto.” Ole Grandpa answered, just as he sat back down in time for the platform’s halting. “Here we are, my fine contestants, welcome to Drinkadoo!”

Driving Around Drinkadoo

The roar of the De Soto’s engine covered up the sound of snickering from Walter and Jonah as they foolishly thought Drinkadoo a silly name. It was named this because it was the very activity that all of the inhabitants did. Constantly. The car turned off the small dirt road that led to the platform and got onto the highway. Speeding by other cars, it soon became apparent to everyone that the occupants were all quite drunk. Swerving this way and that to dodge cars in the wrong lane or driving too slowly, Gerry noticed what appeared to be a wreck between two vehicles. The occupants were both laughing hysterically as their cars, apparently upon impact, had turned into a mass of gelatinous metal and prevented any harm. Strangest of all was that they were dressed just as Ole Grandpa was in 50’s regalia. “Our first stop is the Vodka factory! Here is where every drop of Ole Grandpa’s Vodka is made and sent up to the surface for packaging.” Ole Grandpa said as the car roared into the parking lot of a very tall building. Cars were parked all over the place, with no adherence to the lines or other vehicles blocking the way. Placing the De Soto half on the curb and half in the lot, Ole Grandpa ordered everyone out and they began to proceed inside. “Hey, boss. HEY! Can you uh, please, just er, put my car back up? I left my, my thinger.” Said a voice behind them. All turned to see a completely wasted middle aged man, vodka bottle in hand, pointing at a gelatinous mass that had once been a Chevrolet but was now rammed into a lamp post. Now both were piles of metallic goo. “Certainly, Charles.” Ole Grandpa said and walked over to the mass. The drunk man staggered up to the contestants and sized them up with his bleary eyes. “You wanna go?” He asked Jonah, who only sneered in disgust. “Fine, FINE! You go to your little contest. You do whatever. You…you’re already the loser now baby.” Charles walked away laughing at this over to his reformed car. Ole Grandpa had tapped some sort of electric rod to the pile and reformed both lamp post and vehicle. As the group resumed their march inside, Charles revved up the car and promptly backed into another car. They could still hear him swearing after the doors to the Vodka Factory closed behind them.

Inside the Vodka Factory

The inside of the Vodka Factory looked more like a car repair shop than a place for making Vodka. Power tools, greasy rags, and drunk employees wearing grey overalls bustled all around the small group. Ole Grandpa waved over a young boy who was walking out of an office with a tray of multi-colored drinks. “One for each of you, one for each. Choose which you like. Vodka is the only spice that tastes better on ice!” Jonah was the first to pick her drink, the purple one, which she took one sip of and blanched slightly at the fruity quality. “I don’t suppose I could have a martini instead?” She asked. Ole Grandpa pointed at the green cup which she promptly switched to by replacing it with her old one. “I just can’t believe the way that man spoke to me. Are all of the citizens in this little…town, is it? Are they all so intoxicated?” Jonah snidely asked Ole Grandpa. “Why of course. Of course. How else would you expect them to be? I should quite say that any citizen of Drinkadoo would be totally and utterly opposed to the notion of sobriety. Isn’t that right Teddy?” He asked the young boy, who looked a bit worried for a moment. “Oh yes sir, yes sir. Drunk as a skunk, all day long!” Teddy even effected a slight sway to prove himself. Jonah took a sip of her drink and gave a slight frown. “How odd…it tastes exactly like a martini. But, why the green coloring? It’s…my goodness, it’s delicious!” She exclaimed. “In due time, my dear Jonah. Now then, everyone take a drink please. Yes you too little Chatpers, perhaps the orange one? Yes, a good screwdriver for you. Gerry, good good. Now where has that boy Walter gotten to?” Everyone looked about as they tried their drinks, when suddenly Chatpers pointed and cried out. Walter was over by the door they had come in, pants slightly loosened, and appeared to be making some slight adjustments to his person before dashing over to Ole Grandpa’s beckonings. As the group moved on to the main distillery, Walter fell in behind Gerry and tapped him on the shoulder. “Dude, I just tea bagged the door knob. Everybody who works here has indirectly touched my balls! How fucking sweet is that?!” He snatched a drink off the tray Teddy was carrying, who was following behind the procession. “Jesus, you’re really going to put your balls on everything here?” Gerry asked shaking his head. He downed his drink, frowned, and plucked the last one off the tray.

Where We Get Vodka

“Now then, the coloring you are all tasting is pure essence of flavor. That green hue is literally thousands of olives condensed into my own brand of concentrate and then distilled into the vodka. The coloring is merely an indication of the purity of each concentrated flavor. Have any of you ever tried raw, unprocessed vodka before?” Ole Grandpa spoke while gesturing about the factory floor. Over in one corner, drunken workers were spilling cranberries all over the floor while dumping them into what appeared to be a pile of lawn mower engines connected together. Fire belched out of several tail pipes and the roar was almost deafening for a brief moment as the cranberries shuddered into the strange machine. Out of an entire wheel barrel load, only a thin trickle of dark red poured forth into a small bottle. “What do you mean by unprocessed vodka? Like it hasn’t been fermented yet?” Gerry asked. Ole Grandpa shook his head and led the group over to an enormous tub full of what appeared to be peeled potatoes in some sort of liquid. The smell was awful and everyone covered their noses. A snap of the fingers and a worker stumbled over with a bucket full of a milky smelly substance. “This is unprocessed vodka. Your average distillery will simply purify it by heating this until some foul tasting mixture comes out that passes for alcohol. Here we purify it with my own patented Ole Grandpa method. Behold!” There was a loud pop that made everyone jump while an overweight worker drove in with a pink convertible that appeared to be having severe engine trouble. He pulled it up to the bin everyone was standing next to it and drunkenly yelled for someone to, ‘fucking help me with this shit’. A chain and crank were lowered, and the engine was hoisted out with a few taps from one of the electric rods Ole Grandpa had used earlier. Still belching smoke and covered with black grease, the engine was positioned next to a large pipe at the base of the potato vat. A twist of a knob and the milky liquid began to drain out and into the engine, which was still running, and with a few sputters pure vodka began to pour out of the fluid exchange and into a funnel below. Jonah, who was still sipping on her martini, gave a cry of horror and promptly poured it out.

Walter's Last Tea Bag

“Now, was that really necessary? Does a beautiful thing that comes from an ugly place need to lose its glister? Or shall we all be gilders of gold?” Ole Grandpa said sadly as he looked at the poured out drink. Jonah shook her head in revulsion, Gerry shrugged since he had already finished off the second drink, and little Chatpers contemplated his barely touched drink for a moment before taking another sip. Ole Grandpa beamed back at him for his courage and motioned to Terry to go refill the tray with more drinks. “Every bit of my vodka is processed in this manner, with the flavored drinks being poured into the engine along with the potato fermentation. It all passes into that large funnel which is then further purified by the air bubbles and pressure that send it up to the surface to be bottled.” The group continued to the far end of the Factory as Ole Grandpa pointed to the various flavor distilling methods. The oranges were bashed with hammers drunkenly by giddy employees, the olives shaken about in a giant bin until there was nothing but the same thinly colored trickle of liquid coming out. All followed except Walter, whose eyes still rested on the giant funnel below the bin. His hands were already going for his zipper as he marched over to tea bag the very thing he had set his heart on since he had entered the factory. Every single person who drank Ole Grandpa’s vodka would be indirectly drinking his balls, consequences be damned. A furtive glance around showed that all the workers were as merrily intoxicated as ever and utterly oblivious to him or even the presence of the other contestants. Ole Grandpa was just launching into the complexities of using broken glass to drain pomegranate essence when Chatpers cried out, “Look at Walter! He’s putting his thingy on something again!” Everyone turned and stared at Walter, whose member was already out and mere centimeters from the funnel. Ole Grandpa spoke for everyone when he said, “Ah, young man, I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” It was unfortunate for Walter, who was so surprised at being caught that he failed to pay attention to his footing. Without a sound he slipped and plunged into the funnel, member running against the side of the pipe the entire way. Ole Grandpa shook his head and motioned to one of the drunk employees who was about to pour another load of vodka into a dirty car engine and down into the funnel. “Now see here, it won’t do any good if there’s a person down there. Just pump the system full of pressure and send him up to the top. He seems capable enough to get himself out of a vodka bottle.” With that, Ole Grandpa called the Vodka section of their tour to a close and they all headed towards the exit. “Well, at least he got to put more than his balls in the vodka everyone will drink,” Gerry muttered.

Teddy Joins the Group

It was Gerry who finally spoke up while the contestants headed for the exit. “So what happens to Walter? Are we just going to leave him in there?” The procession halted and Ole Grandpa gave a slight shrug. “Well, the tub isn’t exactly designed for humans but it should send him up with no trouble. The air bubbles will send him flying right up into the cold arms of my packaging robots, who’ll be expressly told not to kill him.” Ole Grandpa whirled around, but then Jonah spoke up. “Aren’t you, ah, aren’t you going to at least clean the funnel or something?” This only brought a small chuckle from Ole Grandpa, which turned into a roaring laugh. Little Chatpers gave a few half-hearted giggles himself to join in. “My dear, I hardly think some man with his pants down will constitute a dramatic change in quality to vodka as superb as mine. But perhaps you’re right. We shall let the first batch after he has…passed through the tubing go for a discount.” As everyone filed out, Teddy was waiting at the exit with a refilled tray of colored drinks. Everyone took another except Jonah, who was even more disgusted than before about Ole Grandpa’s vodka. “Now Teddy, I want you to drink one of these. Yes, yes. Right this instant…that’s good. Now take that last one and come along with us. You can help out at the lab for now.” A slightly downtrodden Teddy chugged a pink vodka drink and took the purple one, walking beside Gerry as they headed out the door and to the car. Launching onto the highway and off towards some new destination, Gerry, Jonah, and Teddy were all in the back seat. “Why are you so bummed out about having to come along? Hell, you get to be drunk at work. That’s better than I can say for myself.” Gerry told Teddy. “Drunk at work? We have to be drunk all day here! Even the water has alcohol in it. If you don’t drink then everyone starts to get mad at you an-“ Teddy complained, but he cut himself off when he saw that Ole Grandpa had turned his head. The old man gave a rueful grin to Gerry and Jonah. “Youth these days! Honestly, why when I was that age I could be found at the bottom of a bottle before the sun was completely up! It really is becoming quite a problem with some of the younger employees here, this sobriety nonsense"

To The Laboratory

They continued down the road dodging drunk drivers and traffic jams. Gerry noticed there were no stoplights or traffic signs, but then again when does a drunk ever pay attention to them anyways? “So, where are we going, Mr. Ole Grandpa?” Little Chatpers asked, who was riding shotgun. “Why, to my Laboratory and Rum Distributor! There you can see all of my latest drinking inventions! It is there that I invented the metal processing method that enables all of this miraculous alcoholism: alkalumiunum. The latest mixers and enablers are all made there as well, technology so advanced that my competitors would pay millions for just a tiny peek! And each of you will have the privilege of seeing it!” Chatpers gave a small clap of his hands and acted excited while Jonah checked her watch and dug inside her purse for a cigarette. Gerry was chewing on the ice in his drink and starting to look more agitated. Finally, in a low voice, he turned to Teddy and said, “Why do you wish you could sober up? Look, don’t tell anyone this, but I haven’t been able to get drunk since I got here. Hell, I could barely manage a buzz at 9,000 feet. Now that we’re actually below sea level? I’ve had like 6 drinks and I feel nothing.” Teddy looked a bit nervous that Gerry wanted to resume their previous conversation. The effects of the vodka drinks were reddening his cheeks a little, so that he finally caved in and said a little too loudly. “Well, lucky fucking you. My friends and I tried sobriety a few times, but then Suzy’s Mom caught her not being wasted and now we’re all grounded. My Dad has been bringing me to work with him so he can make sure I’m drinking steadily.” Gerry wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this, and he didn’t need to when the car swerved off the road and pulled up to another large building. The parking was much more orderly here, with cars in neat rows. Except they weren’t cars, they were Armored Personal Vehicles and Helicopters. A large line of military-looking trucks were all in a row as well, while outside one of the military vehicles were what appeared to be a group of soldiers hoisting assault rifles inside. “What the Hell is all this?” Jonah asked. “Silly, the Rum Distribution center and my Lab!”

Ole Grandpa Rum

Ole Grandpa ordered everyone out of the De Soto and handed Teddy the keys. “Make sure it isn’t in the way of anything. If you must wreck it, wreck it someplace out of the way.” Teddy leaned over to Gerry while everyone walked over to admire an A.P.V. “Hey man, you seem cool. I mean, I’m cool, but you seem cool too. Inside the lab, fucking amazing man, ok inside the lab are these pills. They’re probably white, but y’know tab things. Can you….CAN YOU…grab me some? You’ll know what I want. You know.” Gerry could see that he was completely inebriated at this point and only nodded to finish the awkward moment. The De Soto engine roared while Teddy accelerated away at a mere five miles per hour. “But…what is it all for? Don’t tell me you pour the rum through machine guns or tank cannons or some such nonsense?” Gerry heard as he jogged up to the rest of the group. Jonah was still a bit ruffled at the sight of large men with machine guns, who had finished loading up the vehicle and were piling inside. “Pour the rum through a cannon? Why, what nonsense! No, no, those are for shooting. You see we here at the distillery know that the best way to make rum is the precise method that sailors in the old days produced it. We steal it.” A soldier marched up to Ole Grandpa who was wearing camouflage and a beret. He gave a snappy salute and Ole Grandpa returned it smartly. With that, the A.P.V. fired up and began backing out of the parking lot. “None of these vehicles are made from alkamianamum, they are all real deal Soviet grade stuff.” He said proudly. Gerry spoke up, “Y’know, I’ve always thought your rum tasted a lot like Capt. Smith’s. This explains it, but I never really drank it enough to be sure. I kinda hate rum.” Everyone nodded to this. “I believe one of rum’s most basic properties is that no one actually likes drinking it, but it always ends up happening. To be honest, I never touch the stuff myself. The boys hijack trucks or sometimes even all out assaults on distilleries. They take what they want and then we pour it all into a vat and repackage it.” Even Jonah shrugged in agreement while lighting a cigarette and commenting, “I never drink it either.” The doors to the laboratory beckoned and as the group marched inside Little Chatpers quaintly chimed in, “Hey, I never drink rum either. I think it tastes yucky too!”

Amazing Drinking Inventions

The inside of the laboratory resembled a high school chemistry classroom. Rows of black tables with beakers, computers, and other scientific instruments filled the room along with drunken men in lab coats. In one corner, a group of men were chanting as a colleague did a shot of a bubbling blue liquid. After coughing and gasping for several moments he gave a thumbs up and everyone around him cheered. “Now here are the miracles of miracles, the products so new they aren’t even out on the market yet. So amazing I won’t even bother to describe them, I’ll simply have to let you try. Now first up, something that Walter would’ve appreciated were he not woefully absent, a type of whiskey that no matter how much you drink it will never impair your...ah, manhood. Care for a shot?” Gerry gave it a taste and nodded, “It definitely tastes like whiskey.” They moved to the next row. “Here are two amazing discoveries. The first is a mixer that tastes good even warm and can mix with anything. Watch as I take a glass of rum, combine it with my mixer and then…yes, here Chatpers. What do you think?” He gave a tentative sip, and when he did not openly wretch even Jonah was startled. “After that, we have an energy drink that has been combined with alcohol.” Both the adult contestants laughed at this. “But Ole Grandpa, everyone knows those things are disgusting! You can’t poss-“ But he silenced them all with a finger to his lip and handed over a paper cup containing a strange orange liquid. After a small sip, Gerry immediately took a larger one then handed it over to Jonah who followed suit. “My God…it tastes good! That’s the most am-“ They both exclaimed simultaneously. “The most amazing thing ever? Why, as I said before, welcome to my lab of amazing creations!” Ole Grandpa said proudly. They walked up and down the rows, trying all manner of concoctions. A wine that when you drank it made you tequila drunk, a tequila that made you wine drunk! Pills that let you get wasted without blacking out, pills that relieved you of your sex drive so you wouldn’t do something stupid while drunk. When Jonah was rummaging in her purse for yet another cigarette, Ole Grandpa stopped her and gave her a cold drink. “I believe you will find your desire for nicotine duly relieved if you have just a few sips of my extraordinary nicotine beer!” Jonah took a sip, shrugged, and lit a cigarette anyways. As they neared the end of the lab and the samplings, they had all taken in quite a bit of alcohol. Jonah appeared to be getting downright tipsy while Gerry was still as numbly sober as ever. When they passed a tray of white tablets he paused to examine them. “Ah, you needn’t worry about those. Something for those unfortunate souls who cannot live in the safety of Drinkadoo. If you take one, it will sober you up instantly in the event some law enforcement agency has caught you.” Heading back towards the exit, Gerry reached over and pocketed a few.

Parking Lot Drama

Outside the Laboratory, Teddy had passed out on the lawn. The De Soto was a pile of metallic goo underneath a helicopter and Ole Grandpa seemed quite pleased with the situation. “That’s the spirit my boy, just drink yourself right on through it!” He walked over to the De Soto’s remains and gave it a nudge with his foot. Gerry was standing over Teddy and debating what to do with the sobriety tablets when Jonah came from behind and wrapped her arm around his waist. “Why, my dear Harry. Look at him! He seems to have had a bit too much to drink! Reminds me of my second husband, always going to sleep at the worst of times. You know, I was wanting to ask…what are your plans after this little tour thing is over?” Jonah was noticeably leaning for support and Gerry found himself wishing more than ever he could just feel the slightest buzz from drinking. Anything to make this forty year old woman suddenly hitting on him not as excruciating as it already was. He didn’t even need to be drunk enough to make her attractive, just amusing. “Hey, we’d better go see where the old man is dragging us next. Go, uh, claim me a spot in the car.” Jonah was trying to light the wrong end of a cigarette while she shot Gerry a sly grin and waltzed over to where the old man was attempting to pull the car out from underneath the helicopter. When she was gone, Teddy’s arm shot out and grabbed Gerry’s leg. “Didjeeyou…didja get it?” Shooting a furtive glance back to a now giggling Jonah and Ole Grandpa, Gerry nodded and handed him the tablets. Teddy popped one in his mouth and let his arm flop back on the ground. He let out a long blissful sigh, like someone had just shot him full of morphine. “My Dad knows one of the scientists and was bitching about them inventing these things. Jesus…this is what it feels like? To be sober? It’s incredible. Everything sounds so amazing and alive. Quick, kick me. C’mon, please?” Gerry shrugged and gave the kid a kick. A huge grin split Teddy’s face, which was losing its reddish hue. “God…that actually hurt. Thanks so much Gerry. I can’t wait to show Suzy. If I promise my Dad we’re going to go play beer pong he might let us out, then she can take one too! I’m gonna pretend to be passed out again.” Gerry nodded and without saying a word walked over to where Ole Grandpa and Jonah were still pulling at the De Soto’s liquidated form. Out of the corner of his eye, Gerry thought he saw Chatpers standing a few paces back. Watching him.

Making Whiskey

There seemed to be no reasonable way to get the De Soto out from the Helicopter. “No matter, the whiskey park is just down the block anyways. Soon enough you’ll see how we make the world’s best whiskey in the world!” With that, they all began marching down the sidewalk. Chatpers followed without a word to anyone about Gerry’s interaction with Teddy and Jonah was quick to resume her post on Gerry’s arm. The streets were filled with apartments, places one could pick up alcohol, and of course drunk people. Gerry was a little perplexed that there weren’t any stores or other commercial enterprises, just places that judging from the window one could just walk in and pick up frozen dinners. There were a few pizza joints, but no one seemed to be manning the counter. Only eating the food. Just as they rounded a corner, Jonah’s hand slinked a little south on Gerry’s rear and she whispered in his ear, “You kno- *hic* know, you seem like a really intelligent man for your age. I like intelligent me- *hic* men. I’m a bit of a smart person myself.” Gerry was stumped for a way to disprove that one when suddenly they came into view of a great city park. There was a little creek and great trees, fed light by the giant beacon that still hung overhead in the cavern that Drinkadoo resided in. Inside the park were more drunk workers, this time dressed in overalls and wearing straw hats. They all seemed to be speaking in southern accents, a fact that was further exaggerated by their inebriated state. They were all standing in little clusters around burning fires and strange contraptions. “Mash be ‘bout ready anytime. Yes sir, be real good soon.” An old timer, grey beard reaching his waist, muttered. “You damned fool, it ain’t almost ready! Be least, ‘nother twenty minutes er so.” Another countered. The two soon fell to arguing, then punching, then kicking, then more swearing, before another drunkard in the group took the mash off and added some into the pot but mostly spilled it on the ground. Ole Grandpa halted and turned around, “This! This is where all of Ole Grandpa’s whiskey is made. By genuine drunk rednecks, in the out of doors, in real moonshine distilleries!”

Rarest Whiskey in the World

The contestants walked around the park in silence, once again awed by the great lengths Ole Grandpa would go for the sake of authenticity. That, and the lack of any realistic response to the sight of dozens of drunk rednecks making whiskey. Some had fiddles and danced while their mash brewed, others carefully poured the finished whiskey into great steel drums to be carried up to the surface robots. But mostly, they sat around drinking as much whiskey as they could. “This must be why it costs so much, huh? The workers end up drinking most of it.” Gerry said to no one in particular. A bearded old timer overheard him and started laughing, drunkenly knocking over a bubbling brew and splashing Gerry’s leg with the hot mash. “Goddamnit! Ow! What the Hell is wrong with you?!” The music stopped and everyone stared at Gerry. A few men drunkenly swayed still to a soundless beat but most seemed dumbfounded at the outburst. Finally, Ole Grandpa broke the silence with a cough and said, “Why…Gerry, they are drunk. Like we all are. Like you are as well, I presume? You are drunk, aren’t you?” More stares, a few of the rednecks were beginning to circle around him. A few had dangerous leers in their eyes. “Oh yeah, I mean sure. I’m wasted as can be. Yes sir…ah…” Gerry was becoming nervous as more people entered the circle around him. Jonah had broken off his arm and was melting into the crowd. Even in her drunk state, she could see that her newfound interest had gotten itself into trouble. “But…I could certainly use some of that fine whiskey?” Gerry ventured. Grins broke out and cheers were let loose. A few rednecks slapped him on the back a little too hard and handed over a jug. One even leaned in and whispered, “S’alright stranger. S’alright. Why sometimes even I forget to keep alcohol around when I’m walking and such. Here, have a sup!” Gerry took a big swig for everyone to see and swallowed it all down. It tasted great and yet even as the burning sensation settled in his stomach he could tell it was doing little to diminish his brain activity. As Ole Grandpa resumed their walk in the park, it was discovered that Jonah had wandered over to a particularly large still where one ancient lone worker resided. “Ah yes, I suppose it was inevitable. Jonah, my dear, what you are looking at is the still where we make the rarest whiskey in the world!”

Jonah's Expensive Tastes

All the contestants gathered around an old man, who was snoozing next to a still that looked like it had been out of use for some time. Next to him, lying corked and a little dusty, was a bottle of whiskey. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it in shade or hue, and yet somehow Jonah instinctively knew what it was. “It’s rare? How rare? What year is it? How many people can afford it?” She asked, all trace of her drunken state removed with the adrenaline of discovering this rarest of rare whiskeys. “Why, that is the only bottle in existence as far as I know. It was brewed by the oldest employee here, old Remus whom you see before you. Back when he worked it was agreed by everyone that he was the finest brewer in Drinkadoo, so I set him to the task of drafting a recipe for a finer and better grade of whiskey than had ever been produced. After spending nearly seven years experimenting and brewing, he produced that bottle of whiskey and promptly refused to make another drop.” Ole Grandpa lectured. Little Chatpers had sat on the ground cross-legged and gave his most rapt face, while Jonah’s eyes grew bigger and bigger at the tale. “I simply must have it!” Jonah cried out. Ole Grandpa seemed a bit confused for a moment and then shook his head. “I simply can’t my dear. I’m saving it for any potential financial problems that may arise, a sort of investment. Even if I were going to sell it, the bottle would go for a fortune an-“ Jonah cut him off with a loud ‘DONE!’ before snatching the bottle up and uncorking it. A small hiss escaped as the ancient air and potent brew’s odor released. Before anyone could say a word Jonah inhaled deeply and then took a deep swig of the bottle. “Mmmm….delicious! Oh just wait until I tell the girls! They’ll be so jealous! Imagine, a brand of whiskey so rare that only I have tasted it! Why, I could call on anyone and bring this over. The White House, Hollywood…I, with the only bottle of Ole Grandpa’s super ra-“ Jonah’s ramblings were interrupted as her voice almost seemed to catch in her throat. Gerry could’ve sworn that her pupils dilated for a moment, then shrank, than grew large again. Her face flushed, then became spotty, then a pale shade. She whirled behind her as if she had heard a startling sound, looked up at the sky, then down at her feet. “Hey, are you ok? Ole Grandpa, it looks like that whiskey is making her feel a little funny.” Gerry commented as he took a few steps towards her. She wheeled on him and he could see in her eyes that she had no idea who he was. “Oh my, it would appear Remus might’ve not quite perfected the recipe after all.” Ole Grandpa commented.

Oldest Employee in Drinkadoo

Jonah was beginning to visibly shake now. She took a few steps left, then a few right, and began holding herself up. “Everyone is so worried. Worried worried worried. Well, I’m not! No sir! Harry, will you please stop saying ‘fuck’ so much? Oh Harry, it’s alright!” Jonah screamed out to no one in particular. The bottle of super rare whiskey fell from her hand and spilled out onto the grass, promptly causing the well tended lawn to turn a deep shade of brown. Remus had awoken now as well. “Yessir, looks like I added too much of the wormwood and paint thinner to it. Can’t be sure though. Never tried it myself. I just thought up a recipe that sounded good and bottled it. Guess I better get this old still working again.” Remus ruminated. Jonah doubled over and promptly vomited. Then began to walk away as if in some kind of trance. “Well, I suppose it’ll be a while before she comes out of that spell. Perhaps we had best move on without her? I’ll make sure someone takes her up to the surface once she feels able. Here, I shall call us a ride to our final destination.” Ole Grandpa said as he pulled out some sort of radio device and walked away for a brief moment. Chatpers and Gerry stood by Remus, who was beginning to build a fire underneath the pot. “So, ah, how do you like working here?” Gerry asked. “Eh?” Remus replied. “He asked you how you like working here. How much do you get paid? What are the benefits? You’re his oldest employee, so what kind of perks are there?” Chatpers asked. Gerry and Remus both turned to stare at the little boy for a moment, who was still looking straight at Remus. “Well now young feller. I don’t particularly get paid all that much. Actually, Ole Grandpa just sorta gives us food and a place to bed, plus all the booze we can drink. That’s about it, really. As fer benefits…well, there been plenty other folks working ‘fore me. But on account of the drinking and all, no one ever gets to bothering about it that much. Most folks tend to just sorta wander off or get killed doing somethin’ drunk. We all have a big party for em and then, y’know, go back to drinking as usual. Speaking of, I feel a mighty need for some whiskey before I go about moon shining again. I’ll see you fellers around.”

The Gin Factory

Ole Grandpa approached the final two contestants. “I hope you two are excited, because we’re about to reach the last stop on our little trip. The thing I know you’ve all been waiting for…the gin factory!” He said with the same level of excitement he had used their entire tour. Gerry gave a half-smile and secretly wished the whole thing would just be over with. He wanted to get away from all these drunk people and the insane drinks. For the first time in his life, Gerry almost found himself wishing he could just sit somewhere quiet and not be around alcohol. Almost. Chatpers resumed his good cheer and leaped off the bench with excitement. “Oh gosh, Ole Grandpa! Where is this one at? Do you make it with rocket ships and cowboys?” The little kid exclaimed. Ole Grandpa laughed in response and held his hand as they walked over to where a yellow taxi awaited the trio. Gerry was placed in the back seat again. It was beginning to get late in the day. The taxi winded its way amongst the roads, now empty since everyone had either passed out or was too drunk to even attempt operating an alkaluminum car. The driver was chugging some sort of energy drink and had the music blasting out of his car. The taxi veered down a ramp and soon Gerry realized that they were descending deeper underground. “The Gin factory is even deeper down? What for?” He asked. Ole Grandpa paused a minute and almost seemed to have a mystical look on his face. “I am going to tell you a secret Gerry, about how I make the best gin in the world. First we start out with water from a river that can only be found deep beneath the Earth’s surface, the River Lethe. This water is more pure and tastes more sweet than any other water, bottled or bucketed. This is used in the distillation of the corn whiskey which is poured through barrel after barrel of used oil. This fluid is then drained through shower parts and hoses that have been used by real Germans. Then, when it has finally gone through this final, pain inducing and misery searing process, I aid the last final ingredient. One single baby tear!” Even Chatpers forgot to look cheerful at this description. For a brief moment Gerry thought of Walter. “Jesus Christ Man,” He said.

Climber's Gin

The taxi finally arrived at a poorly lit building inside an even darker cavern that was underneath the immense one housing Drinkadoo. A river could be heard nearby and even stepping out of the car Gerry could smell the sweet waters that Ole Grandpa had mentioned. Inside were all the awful things he had said, all the awful components that went into making the best liquor in the world. The pain of Arabic sweat distilled into each barrel of crude oil, the guilt and sausage taste that German shower parts spent decades washing away, until they finally stood above the factory floor on a large catwalk overlooking the trough through which the already aromatic gin was poured. “You can see it winding its way now, up to the last stage. It is here that every couple of minutes a single drop of baby’s tears is added. It is in this way that I make the best alcohol in the world. Isn’t it…incredible?” Ole Grandpa murmured. Gerry nodded his head, but on the inside was all the more annoyed. He wasn’t bothered that his favorite liquor was created through incredibly disturbing methods. He wasn’t bothered by the origins of a thing he loved. He was bothered by something that he did not quite understand yet. “Gerry…you haven’t been able to get drunk. Have you? No, no. It’s alright. I know you’ve tried. Yes, I deduced that your shift in elevation was taking its toll and your body could process the alcohol more than others. You know…there is a way. It’s called Climber’s Gin. Just invented for people fresh from hiking and climbing.” The old man revealed a clear bottle, unlabeled, and showed it to Gerry. “There is no greater sadness to me than seeing a person who must be around others intoxicated while he himself is not. No greater stress than watching others experience joy in something that you yourself feel nothing from. You would judge me for being a bit insistent that people always be drunk in my Factory. And yet it is this very thing that has caused alcohol to be criminalized throughout history. If everyone would get drunk more often, then there would be no need to for me to hide away in this cave! There would be no need for people to die because of drunk driving, because no one would ever be expected to drive! There would be no need for people to make mistakes on alcohol, because they wouldn’t be mistakes anymore! Imagine a world where we were all accustomed to drunks, where it was accepted, and where everyone could hold their own! What I want to do in Drinkadoo, no, what I want to do in the entire world, is hear one single voice ring out in unison! I want to hear everyone declare, ‘Bartender, fix me another!’ Ole Grandpa held the bottle of Climber’s Gin high in the air as he gave his speech. With an almost wild eye, he looked at Gerry and offered it to him. “Gerry, are you with me? Don’t you see? That’s what the contest was always about. The winner stays with me! The winner joins me in Drinkadoo and together we will create new drinks! New Alcohol! Together, we will create a new world for getting drunk!”

The Decision

Gerry stared at the bottle of Climber’s Gin. He thought about the listless people he had met who spent all their money on booze and the hours he had toiled shoveling snow for a similar fate. He could still feel the burn from spilled mash and the pressure to drink when he hadn’t behaved just like everyone else. He thought about Jonah hanging on his arm, about Walter being a drunken moron and putting his balls on things. He thought about what a waste his life would be in this cave doing nothing but drink. And as he thought these things, he reached out and took the bottle. He thought about how he was sick of being drunk as he unscrewed the cap. As he raised it to his lips, he thought about how he didn’t really want to do this. And as the warm Gin poured down his throat, he finally realized what it was that had been bothering him about this factory. What it was that had been bothering him about drinking all his life. But it was too late, he was drunk again. The gin, as promised, began to destroy brain cells and nerve endings merrily started to bounc off receptors. He fell back against the railing and gave out a brief gasping laugh and then went straight back to chugging. Ole Grandpa gave a smile and a bow, then began walking down the catwalk. He pointed this way and that and talked about the mechanics of mixing such infernal ingredients, but Gerry wasn’t listening. He downed the entire bottle and threw it over the railing without a second thought. Truly, he was finally and utterly wasted. But as he took one step forward, his balance seemed to give way and his foot caught on something. For a brief second, it looked like someone’s leg tripping him. He slid and was over the banister but managed to wrap his arm around it just before falling over. Standing there, watching him struggle, was little Chatpers. “Youse, you gotter help me! C’mon kid!” He called out. But the Chatpers only blankly looked at him, before walking forward to where only Gerry could hear. “Jesus, it took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you to get wasted and do something stupid this whole fucking tour. Oh, what, Little Chatpers not being cute enough for you? Fuck you asshole. If you think I’m going back to my alcoholic dad and getting the shit beaten out of me all day, you can think again. Ole Grandpa is off his fucking rocker and I aim to collect. He’s sitting on a goddamn gold mine! For Christ’s sake, he only pays the employees with alcohol and shitty food! It’s nothing but pure profit and that’s not even including the money we’ll make patenting all this crazy crap he invented. Sorry Buddy, but the only person who is winning this contest is going to be me. God, I fucking hate drunks…” With that, Chatpers pried Gerry’s arm loose and he fell off the catwalk.

Gerry Goes Home

Gerry fell into the trough and was immediately swept away by the river of gin. For a brief moment, he thought he could see Ole Grandpa and Chatpers standing together. Chatpers was smiling and laughing while Ole Grandpa shrugged and took a sip from a drink he had made. He drunkenly stuggled to grab onto something so he could warn Ole Grandpa, but he only slid farther down the chute. Gerry was dumped into some kind of vat and sucked down a hole. Darkness washed over Gerry, Darkness and Gin. Until at last Gerry thought he was going to pass out, at last he even realized that he might actually drown in gin, at last he was spat back out. His head immediately bounced off an empty gin bottle and Gerry distinctly felt as if something had cracked, though he was not sure what. He rolled off a conveyer belt and on the floor before groggily looking around. Large mechanical arms shifted this way and that, packaging the liquor that was made in such absurd ways in such a common manner. Gerry would’ve laughed but his vision was still blurry. A mechanical voice came over the loud speaker and instructed him to the head towards the diner exit for his free meal and drink. Inside the diner that their tour had begun in, 50’s décor and all, he was surprised to find Jonah and Walter both sitting there smoking a cigarette. “Shit bro, you too?” Walter said. Gerry gave a questioning look to Jonah and she merely shook her head in disgust. She handed him a cigarette and without question he took it and lit it up. They all sat together, saying nothing and nursing their pounding heads. Finally Walter broke the silence, “Man, wouldn’t it be awesome to get to work for Ole Grandpa in Drinkadoo?” Jonah and Gerry looked at one another. Jonah just gave a grunt but Gerry pondered this thought for a moment. “Sometimes Walter, I think I’ve been working in Drinkadoo my whole life.” The trio went back to not speaking for a while, nursing their ice waters and wondering what to do next. The silence was next broken by Jonah who asked, “So did anyone ever find out why everyone is in 50’s dress? I mean, what the fuck was the deal with that?” Everyone shrugged, but Walter had the idea to ask the kid who was just beginning to close the Diner. “What, all this shit? Theme weeks, man. How do you think we managed to keep being drunk entertaining? Last week was Ninjas & Pirates, next week is Space Men. Gives us an excuse to, y’know, get drunk.” Gerry gave a little laugh at that and stood up to leave. “I think you mean being drunk gives you an excuse to get dressed up kid.”