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.”