Best of the Best (For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
walkineternity)
Nov. 27th, 2007 06:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
call_me_snakeIn response to this
Snake opened the crate that arrived at his house rather suspiciously. Seeing the note tacked to the inside of it though caused him to grin. He looked at the label and the strange writing before rereading the letter. Whiskey. Snake gave the large bottle a second look and grinned. He was more than ready to test out this claim.
He headed into the dinning room to retrieve a glass. For a long time he held the bottle staring at the pale amber fluid inside. It looked like gasoline. Plissken wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. He could see the light reflected through it. God he hoped it held up to that claim.
Plissken pulled the cork and smelled the contents. It was strong. His eye watered from the burn.
“God damn.” Snake blinked and set the bottle down staring at it. He’d never smelled anything like that. Shaking his head he poured a little in the glass. Plissken looked at the bottle before re-corking it. He set it aside and contemplated the glass like it might be poisoned.
His courage worked up and he took hold of the glass. Swirling the liquid he could see how it clung in a sheen to the glass. It had all the properties of a good whiskey. Snake took a deep breath and then a sip. It went down smooth as silk with a pleasant heat in the wake.
“Fuck!” He looked at the bottle and poured a full glass. Taking the bottle he locked it in his gun cabinet to keep some asshole from drinking it. Snake headed for his recliner in front of the fire. This drink required no TV or music. No it needed silence to just indulge in the taste. He reached up flicking off the lights. Plissken pulled the lever and reclined back in the fire light.
Every sip seemed to be better than the previous. It was like liquid… liquid... Snake couldn’t put words to it. It was just DAMNED good. Snake shifted after a long while and felt his head spin. He was loaded and only a quarter of a glass in.
“CHRIST!” Snake lay back deciding not to move. Moving was a bad idea. He put the glass down on the mantle covering the top with a coaster. By the time he leaned back into the chair his head was swimming. He was loaded, smashed even. He couldn’t remember being this drunk ever and the soft warmth radiating from his stomach was something else. It was soothing, relaxing. Good God it was nice.
When morning came and Snake was a fully functioning individual again he got up and wrote the Doctor a quick note like only Plissken could write.
HOLY FUCKIN GOD! That’s good shit.
Thank you,
Snake Plissken…. Not so drunk as last night
Snake opened the crate that arrived at his house rather suspiciously. Seeing the note tacked to the inside of it though caused him to grin. He looked at the label and the strange writing before rereading the letter. Whiskey. Snake gave the large bottle a second look and grinned. He was more than ready to test out this claim.
He headed into the dinning room to retrieve a glass. For a long time he held the bottle staring at the pale amber fluid inside. It looked like gasoline. Plissken wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. He could see the light reflected through it. God he hoped it held up to that claim.
Plissken pulled the cork and smelled the contents. It was strong. His eye watered from the burn.
“God damn.” Snake blinked and set the bottle down staring at it. He’d never smelled anything like that. Shaking his head he poured a little in the glass. Plissken looked at the bottle before re-corking it. He set it aside and contemplated the glass like it might be poisoned.
His courage worked up and he took hold of the glass. Swirling the liquid he could see how it clung in a sheen to the glass. It had all the properties of a good whiskey. Snake took a deep breath and then a sip. It went down smooth as silk with a pleasant heat in the wake.
“Fuck!” He looked at the bottle and poured a full glass. Taking the bottle he locked it in his gun cabinet to keep some asshole from drinking it. Snake headed for his recliner in front of the fire. This drink required no TV or music. No it needed silence to just indulge in the taste. He reached up flicking off the lights. Plissken pulled the lever and reclined back in the fire light.
Every sip seemed to be better than the previous. It was like liquid… liquid... Snake couldn’t put words to it. It was just DAMNED good. Snake shifted after a long while and felt his head spin. He was loaded and only a quarter of a glass in.
“CHRIST!” Snake lay back deciding not to move. Moving was a bad idea. He put the glass down on the mantle covering the top with a coaster. By the time he leaned back into the chair his head was swimming. He was loaded, smashed even. He couldn’t remember being this drunk ever and the soft warmth radiating from his stomach was something else. It was soothing, relaxing. Good God it was nice.
When morning came and Snake was a fully functioning individual again he got up and wrote the Doctor a quick note like only Plissken could write.
HOLY FUCKIN GOD! That’s good shit.
Thank you,
Snake Plissken…. Not so drunk as last night
