"So we sat on the sofa sipping our coffee, feeling a little sad. We finally broke for a slapdash lunch of eating up what we didn't want to throw away.... We wound up back on the couch. With a full belly, I scooted down on my end and dozed for about twenty minutes. It was the perfect nap, and I was happy to be woken by Lily, nuzzling me awake, obviously refreshed by her own micro-nap. She was whispering in my ear, poking the words in with her tongue, "C'mon, time for last beach."We went down to the. What time…, wait it’s fucking Saturday. Saturday! I’m so messed up, what when wrong?” The fleshly and over-sexed 23 year old whispered in her head. A faint and feeble flavor of crotch and cum stuck in her throat like the seasoning of a Christmas goose. The taste vivid on her dry lips, the memory muted by the rounds of rum. Tricia Saratopia, an attractive and confident deli clerk from Hampton, New Hampshire stirred about, shifting uneasily in her bed slowly, almost slow motion, touching her. I may have said this before, but there is something in me, something bordering on cruelty buried deep in my psyche. Maybe it’s the devil on my shoulder, goading me. I was taking a perverse amount of pleasure from watching Nick's discomfort. His distraught, grey clammy face with wide staring eyes. I couldn’t help myself.“How does it feel?” I asked, my mouth only inches from her ear, but I knew that he could hear every word. Actually, I was pretty sure that the whole room could hear what was. No matter what BS someone at your church feeds you, he drank alcohol. AND, if you look at the story of the Wedding at Canna, when he turned water into wine, everyone exclaimed that it was the ‘good stuff’ and wondered why they had held it back! Usually you served ‘good’ wine first, and then when people are blotto, you served the marginal stuff.“It’s also the case that nobody knew how to prevent grape juice from fermenting until about 1870. I suspect that was because nobody WANTED to know how!.