Saturday, February 16, 2013

Day 47 - Sipping Story

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.

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