A Drink for Valentine's

[rdodger]

A Drink for Valentine's

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2011

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note must remain attached.
"Fuck Women? I'll drink to that. Bartender, I'll have whatever he's having, put it on my tab."

"Sales? Well, I'm in what you could call relationship management. At least that's what it says on my business card. Really, I'm just a glorified matchmaker. Not one of your match dot internet bubble upstarts, either. Take my word, there's nothing as effective as the old personal touch."

"No, no, I'm not making myself clear. I mean one touch and it's lust city. Actually, I don't even have to do the touching. Look, see that waitress across the room? Watch what happens when I point my finger."

"Well, how was I supposed to know the guy at her table was in a bar with his own wife? Bartender, another one for us."

"Oh hell, I guess the cat's out of the bag. Yeah, god of love and all that. But please, no photos, I'm supposed to be on sabbatical."

"Bow and arrow? Get real. I don't know who in Marketing came up with that silly idea, it sounds like something they cribbed from the Hindus, know what I mean? Attribute and aspect, something like that. Whatever. No, it's straight up mana, magic you'd call it. Though I do have to aim carefully."

"Refill? Mighty kind of you. Where was I? Oh yes... Things got pretty depressing when the Roman empire broke up. Gods without followers - it's not pretty. I blame it on the damn Greeks, but that's water under the bridge now. Mars, he's always busy. You people are good about starting wars. Me, I'm kind of the other end of the spectrum. My work starts new people, his kills them off. But too long doing the same old thing, I had to branch out. You want another one of those? No? Oh well, bartender, one for me."

"The 007 films were the most fun I'd had in eons. Yes, that was me - what, you didn't pick up on the whole "Q" - "Cue" thing? I tell you, it's amazing what those Hollywood makeup people can do. Sean Connery - now there was a man who didn't need anyone's help with women. But then they changed management at the studios, and all of a sudden nobody's returning my calls. Where's the love, I ask you? I still had the bug for the entertainment field. Remember that year when it seemed like every other starlet or singer was marrying some no-name guy who looked like a trailer park reject? Uh-huh, that was me. But after a while, the novelty wore off of that as well."

"What do you mean how many fingers are you holding up? No, don't worry yourself about it. I'm not driving. Well, not a car at any rate."

"Okay, come closer, I want to tell you a secret. Can you keep a secret. Okay, here it is. I can't have you going around telling everybody about me. You understand, don't you. Oh, did you feel that? Look there, see the bartender - yes, I agree, he's really hot. Tell you what, here's a twenty, go give him a big tip, I think he's been giving you the eye. At least now he is."

"Fuck Women! I'll drink to that."

/END/