Sipping Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Demedes had his very own very private soul distillery. He and a select few of his friends would gather
to sample very select spirits of the soul.
The soul distillation process was an ancient art and there had currently
been fewer than a hundred that could perform it with any skill or
accuracy. Then Demedes began his own
practice. Soon, the number of employees
at his brewery outnumbered the rest of the world’s distillers combined. No one outside his staff knew his
secret. In twelve years there had been
no leaks, no theft and no interviews or tours granted. Demedes was a very reclusive and private man. There had also been no employee
turnover. Some theorized that Demedes
wouldn’t let them go, for fear of trade secrets being stolen. How did he keep them there – through force,
magic, and murder, or absurd salaries and excellent health insurance? It was anyone’s guess.
Tonight Demedes sat in his study with a very important guest from the AA
– the Alchemists Association.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
Kirt shook his head no.
“You sure? A virgin farmer’s
daughter? Or perhaps your tastes are more
acidic? I have a range of the troubled
-- criminal, deviant and other sorts of odds and ends. Do you know who I find to be most
delectable? The failed. Bitter sweet with a hint of misguided rage,
but ooh they are so satisfying.”
“I’m fine.”
“I could arrange a tasting.”
“Demedes—“
“Fine. Business business business.
You’re never any fun.”
“Not my job to be fun.”
“Just what is your job anyway?”
“Keep people like you in line and honest.”
Demedes fought back a scowl. He
had no appreciation for the Associations.
They were know-nothing blowhards with no talent of their own and they
just got in the way.
“Kirt, we’re old friends. Just
what is it that the AA thinks I’ve done wrong?”
“We were never old friends. You and
I were competitors. But because we are
old competitors I have a soft spot for you.
I’m here to tell you that you’re going to have to open your doors to the
AA.”
“How nice of you to stop by. Are
you sure you don’t want that drink? One for the road?”
“I’m serious.”
“As am I.”
“Dem – word is you’re draining the living.”
“Lies! Outlandish rubbish. Just because a man makes a fine product and
figures out a way to mass produce it—“
“Just let us in. If it’s all on
the up and up as you say it is…”
“And if I say no?”
“We’ll come back.”
“With muscle.”
“With muscle.”
Demedes thought and thought some more.
His distillery. His rules. His plans.
His success. He’d be damned if he
was going to give that away. These
people. These small minded fools living
in the past and unable to see true business opportunities.
“You’ll excuse me, but I think I need a drink.”
Demedes poured himself a shot of a born-again Christian. Potent stuff.
The true believers were intoxicating.
You could lose your head quickly if you weren’t careful. Demedes didn’t want to be careful. He took a shot and poured himself another.
“Dem, this is a heads-up because we have history.”
“I know it is. You’ve done your
part to clear your own conscience. It’s
okay. Really.”
“So…”
“Not tonight. Not tonight… I’m going to lose my mind and feel free
tonight.”
After a prolonged silence where Demedes drank and Kirt sat and watched
him drink, Kirt stood and headed for the door.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Demedes nodded but didn’t say anything.
As Kirt left, Demedes poured himself a double.
No comments:
Post a Comment