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.