Alcohol and Alchemy
by Cocktail Chip
It was a simple recipe really. A perfect blend of alcohol and alchemy. Pour a delicious dram of stranger with a dollop of moonlight, add a splash of laughter over a jazz soundtrack and let the enchantment begin. Soft breezes to taste. Hugh Hefner patented this formula back in 58 B.V. (Before Viagra) and it's been working ever since. That is the story I told the police anyway. Off the record, I will tell you the unedited version of that night and let you decide.
It was a normal, windy October evening at the grill. The boys, loud as ever, were busy dissecting their earlier rounds and talking trash. All was right in the universe. That is, until she walked in. To say she walked in would be a personal affront to Noah Webster and his good work. It was a samba with a bewitching syncopation of wow! She was a raven haired beauty with an impish smile, a playful nature and more assets than the Forbes 500. As she paused to get her bearings, the membership collectively sucked in their guts. She sashayed through the room towards my table. In her wake, something magical began to happen. This poorly designed and ill conceived building began to transform into a cool and chic 40's night club.
The bar area became a raised stage with a tuxedo-ed Swingin' Bill Stevens leading an all star band. Sonic Sid was tickling the ivories, Fred "Where have you Been" Chaipe was on trumpet and Bill Feeley was on percussion. A large bar area was set up near the back windows overlooking the golf course. Four barmen were behind the plank, four. Service was good. Bill "The Web" was running the front of the house, and SteveO kept his eyes on the till. African distance men don't run this well, but enough about business, lets get back to the important stuff.
She sat down next to me and ordered something that seemed to boil in her glass. She was gracious, charming, and when she danced, her feet never touched the ground. It wasn't long before I was under her spell. The evening flew by. Sometime around midnight, during Feeley's funky spoon solo on 'Black Magic Woman' she disappeared. Vanished. Poof, she was gone.
I don't know if the evening was my imagination, bad ice, or some sort of female voodoo, but as I gave the police my report, sitting next to me was Bill Stevens in a tux.
Happy Halloween