I didn't even ask.
12 May 2006 19:13![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skonen_bladesRedbeard was talking to Greyhound outside of the jackport.
“I swear to God, Grey,” Redbeard was saying, “I was down in San Lucas and when I asked the bartender for a tequila, he said ‘Which one?’. I was like stunned. They have like seventy two kinds of tequila down there.”
“No shit?” asked Greyhound.
“Seriously,” replied Redbeard. “I had this one called Tres Mujares or something. It means Three Women. It was like drinking a dry white wine. Or a, a mojito or something.”
“Aren’t mojitos made with tequila?” asked Greyhound.
“Oh. Uh, I don’t know. But like the point is is that you didn’t have to have salt and lime with the shots or anything,” said Redbeard. “You could just drink it like you were sipping, uh, wine. Or something like that. You know what I mean.”
“Wow,” said Greyhound. “I remember drinking Jose Cuervo at parties in high school and nearly dying a couple of times. The only reason to drink was to prove how hard you were and the only way to drink was copiously until you go so hammered you didn’t mind the taste.”
“Yeah, exactly. This was so smooth though.” Redbeard said, with a faraway look in his eyes.
Redbeard was about ten years older than Greyhound. Redbeard, as his nickname suggested, had a red beard. He had a thick frame with bushy red hair all over it. His thick hands held the killswitch on the taser while Greyhound busily squirreled brass-headed bullets into the clip of the stolen handgun he had tucked into his jeans. Greyhound was tall and thin, late teens, open to suggestion, and in need of money for drugs.
“Awesome” said Greyhound.
“Hey did you know that Tequila isn’t an alcohol?” asked Redbeard.
“What?” asked Greyhound.
“Seriously. It’s a drug.” Said Redbeard with conviction.
“Huh. I thought it was made from cactuses.” Said Greyhound while loading the gun. “Y’know, like vodka’s made from potatoes, Tequila’s made from Cactuses.”
“Cacti.” Said Redbeard.
“Huh?” asked Greyhound.
“Cacti. The plural of cactus is cacti” said Redbeard.
“Oh.” Said Greyhound, slipping the clip into place.
“Well” said Redbeard, looking at the taser that he had in his own hand.
“Well.” Greyhound agreed.
“Let’s do it”
“Ok”
They pulled down their masks.
Two deep breaths later they burst into the jackport. They’d gotten their planning wrong and were cut to shreds by the security systems.
coat check
“I swear to God, Grey,” Redbeard was saying, “I was down in San Lucas and when I asked the bartender for a tequila, he said ‘Which one?’. I was like stunned. They have like seventy two kinds of tequila down there.”
“No shit?” asked Greyhound.
“Seriously,” replied Redbeard. “I had this one called Tres Mujares or something. It means Three Women. It was like drinking a dry white wine. Or a, a mojito or something.”
“Aren’t mojitos made with tequila?” asked Greyhound.
“Oh. Uh, I don’t know. But like the point is is that you didn’t have to have salt and lime with the shots or anything,” said Redbeard. “You could just drink it like you were sipping, uh, wine. Or something like that. You know what I mean.”
“Wow,” said Greyhound. “I remember drinking Jose Cuervo at parties in high school and nearly dying a couple of times. The only reason to drink was to prove how hard you were and the only way to drink was copiously until you go so hammered you didn’t mind the taste.”
“Yeah, exactly. This was so smooth though.” Redbeard said, with a faraway look in his eyes.
Redbeard was about ten years older than Greyhound. Redbeard, as his nickname suggested, had a red beard. He had a thick frame with bushy red hair all over it. His thick hands held the killswitch on the taser while Greyhound busily squirreled brass-headed bullets into the clip of the stolen handgun he had tucked into his jeans. Greyhound was tall and thin, late teens, open to suggestion, and in need of money for drugs.
“Awesome” said Greyhound.
“Hey did you know that Tequila isn’t an alcohol?” asked Redbeard.
“What?” asked Greyhound.
“Seriously. It’s a drug.” Said Redbeard with conviction.
“Huh. I thought it was made from cactuses.” Said Greyhound while loading the gun. “Y’know, like vodka’s made from potatoes, Tequila’s made from Cactuses.”
“Cacti.” Said Redbeard.
“Huh?” asked Greyhound.
“Cacti. The plural of cactus is cacti” said Redbeard.
“Oh.” Said Greyhound, slipping the clip into place.
“Well” said Redbeard, looking at the taser that he had in his own hand.
“Well.” Greyhound agreed.
“Let’s do it”
“Ok”
They pulled down their masks.
Two deep breaths later they burst into the jackport. They’d gotten their planning wrong and were cut to shreds by the security systems.
coat check