A Strawberry Mirage
It’s sweltering outside. Your clothes are sticking to your skin. Your hair is matted to the back of your neck. You could start a community swimming pool in your socks. You’re in a barren dessert with no water in sight. Good thing you made room for that vodka, sugar and club soda in your knapsack. Suddenly a mirage of lemon trees appears, scattered amidst a massive field of strawberries. A hot Russian beefcake named Ivan approaches you and mixes you up one of these:
2 oz of vodka “Why use one when you can have two?” Ivan says.
Ivan pours the vodka in a tall glass. He adds strawberries while winking at you and calling you his little strawberry. Then, he adds the sugar and lemon juice. You watch his muscles flex as he mashes the sugar into the strawberries. He adds ice and gently tops with club soda.
Then, a tan Latin stallion feeds you grapes and stirs up the drink Cuban style. He omits vodka and lemon. And, he adds rum, mint and lime while purring “moooojiittoo” in your ear.
Then, you wake up with a sour vodka and rum taste in your mouth. A leftover bar stamp is on your forehead with smeared phone numbers from Bob and Sylvester on your hand. Your hair is still matted. Your clothes are still stuck to your skin. The vodka bottle in your knapsack is empty.