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!