Friday 25 November 2011

#73: The Last Sip

tasted yellow,
tainted somehow. We gestured

to the barman. 'Is this all right?'
holding up the sort of

novelty chalice thingy
it had been served in.

'How much did you drink?' he bellowed
back, rubbing the bar down with a rag.

We glanced at one another, shrugged.
'All of it?' I tried.

His moustache stiffened like a cat.
The rag dropped from his grasp.

'But did you not read the promotional material?'
He thrust a shaking hand at the cardboard display

by the fruit machine. The cutout showed a 'hearty lad' character
downing a whole pint, then melting away into a skeleton.

The drink was called GreeD. 'It's a test!'
said the barman, and we started to bleed.

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