The Poinsoned Bottle

The Poisoned Bottle

A man goes to a bar one night and orders one drink. Not too long after he'd finished his glass, another man entered the bar. Immediately the crowd became more festive, for the second man brought with him a jovial wind that cooled the stuffy monotony of the scene. The first man couldn't help but feel upset about the murmurous uproar that refused to accompany his presence, but nonetheless returned quietly to his next drink. This is when the second man took the adjacent seat to the first man and ordered two glasses, downing the liquor expertly with a smooth groan that brought with it the approval of the crowd. Now, I'm not even finished with my second glass, and here this man is purposely drinking more than me, the first man conjectured, no doubt only for the cheers. Quickly and while everyone was still focused on the bar, he ordered three servings of a liquor much stronger than the kind he was used to consuming. This show of alcoholic superiority was satisfying to the crowd, but somewhat troubling to the second man, who appeared to not like the applause being on someone else. The first man drank the drinks, grunting through the obvious burn in his throat while lapping up the crowd's approval like a parched dog. Suddenly, a loud voice interrupted the noise. It was the second man, requesting four glasses of an even stronger spirit. This shifted the attention almost instantly, for the scent of a competition never fails to draw hungry spectators. After four empty glasses slam against the bar counter and a mass of people whoop and holler, the first man once again orders more drinks of more potency. Back and forth the two men go, drinking more and more than the prior and drawing more and more people than the prior, all the while becoming more and more intoxicated than the prior. That euphoric buzz passes the point of warm festivity far too quickly for the competitors to notice; however, the waterfalls of toxin stifle any reason or doubt other than the desire to steal the crowd's love. Before too long the men have no idea why they're even still swallowing glass after glass. It's after over an entire hour of drinking that the two rivals simply collapse into each other, limp, not responding to the jeers or jabs of the crowd. They lie in a stinking heap together, an entanglement of greed and envy doused in a bar-full of boos.