So as a follow up to the last ticklishly-unsettling post, here is another. I went out for a dear friend’s birthday last night, and I joined the party for the post-dinner drinks portion of the evening.
We went to a homey, bargain-heavy locale, and to make it even better, one of the regulars decided to treat us to a round of Jello shots, I am wagering due to the celebratory nature of our gathering. I decided to abstain as I was the only one who had to drive home shortly.
He came over to our table of revelers and merrymakers to present a toast as we shot Jellos, and it appeared to be in prehistoric Latin via cryptic chanting. I felt like we were being initiated into the Skulls rather than raising our glasses to our health and wealth.
Well, after a few sloppy tries on getting it right, someone dared to ask, “What does it mean?”
And this prize peach says, “It’s a toast you say among friends, and then you know that whoever doesn’t say it and doesn’t drink is a demon!” Then he looks straight at me and points, smiles rakishly, and saunters away, chuckling to himself.
Well, way to drop a verbal bomb on the table and then leave me to frolic in the fallout.
Just to show he meant business, when we were leaving the bar, he then proceeded to shake everyone’s hand and bid them a good night. I thought we were friends after all because he warmly shook my hand, but then followed up with, “I’ll wish you a good night even though you’re the Devil!”
Ahem. Well, thanks for the generosity. Even us devils are having a hard time stealing souls what with this recession and all.
That sly dog! He was probably planning to call someone a demon all day! Tomorrow he’ll probably call someone a witch. Yeah I said it!
photo courtesy of Flickr and Adam Pieniazek