The first part of this story: The Aftermath
This night was wild – just how I liked it!
As soon as Franco had come in, demanding that we open up a bar, I had seen a golden opportunity to practice my mixology. Most of my friends now refused to taste the drinks I made, even though I had worked out nearly all of the errors! The MSG and soy sauce debacle was far behind me.
Unfortunately, as the night progressed, there was disappointingly little interest in my specially designed and printed cocktail menu. I had spent hours laboring over the names and mixtures, but nobody was ordering! For the first half of the night, I was stuck doing nothing but popping the tops off of beer bottles and making basic martinis for Franco and all the girls he tried to hit on. How dull.
I was thankful, then, when I went back to grab more vodka and encountered Jack, worrying away as usual. He may be constantly in a state of despair, but I do have to admit that he’s good at noticing potential problems. Fortunately, I’m a born problem solver! As soon as I heard that there was a thief, I knew that a booby trap was the answer.
Okay, maybe I got a little excited. My order of self-defense equipment had just come in the mail earlier that day, and I was just raring to try out the pepper spray. The stuff was super fun to spray, too – that might have been why I didn’t quite want to let go of the trigger. Oops. Sorry, Jack. Didn’t mean to splash you with that.
Hey, keep on working through it! Ignoring Jack’s slightly pathetic cries of pain, I headed back out, booby-trapped bottle tucked ever so innocently under my arm. Behind the bar, I tucked it in among the other bottles below the bar, making sure that it was on top where it would definitely catch the thief’s eye.
I meant to mention the decoy bottle to the other bartender. I had opened my mouth to inform him, but I didn’t remember his name, and it was far too awkward to just grab him by the shoulder. So maybe I’d just not let him know. The thief would probably swipe the bottle before the other bartender noticed anyway.
A little later, the bottle had almost completely slipped my mind when Franco came up to the bar, grabbing me very rudely. “Hey, give me three more martinis,” he demanded.
I was first going to make a rejoiner about having some patience, but my eye fell on the decoy vodka bottle, and a much better plan came into my head. “Sure,” I replied, reaching for the bottle. Being careful not to inhale the fumes, I poured out the three martinis for him, barely repressing my giggles.
Being sure to stay nearby, I watched Franco’s antics closely. Sadly, he didn’t drink any of the tainted martinis himself, but my hopes were lifted a moment later, when he took the mixture of capsaisin and alcohol to the face. Hah! I laughed openly as he went stumbling off to the back room.
Unfortunately, I had been distracted by watching Franco’s fall from grace. Behind my back, the other bartender had continued using the bottle of vodka that I had taken out. The booby-trapped vodka bottle! Now, there were at least a dozen martinis behing handed out, all of which had been poisoned with an unhealthy dose of pepper spray.
Before I could grab back the martinis, patrons were grabbing for their drinks, and the angry cries were mounting. I could hear other people passing on the girl’s cry of “roofies.” The other bartender was backing away helplessly, his eyes wide. There was nothing to it. I would have to step up and be a hero.
I shot the other man a look, trying to communicate, “don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Putting down the glass I was holding, I put a hand on the bar, hoisting myself up so I was standing on the wood. I raised my hands, making sure that I had the attention of everyone in the bar.
“Calm down!” I shouted. This did not seem to appease the angrily muttering crowd, so I pressed on. “Don’t worry! You haven’t been roofied! It’s just pepper spray!”
Strangely enough, this still didn’t seem to be making anyone any calmer…