Cocktail
by Bill Tope
When I awoke
from my midafternoon nap, I had an epiphany: I
knew then what I wanted to do to occupy the rest
of my life: I wanted to fall into a quasi-medicinal,
semi-alcoholic, licorice-flavored stupor. In
other words, I wanted to achieve oneness with the
pagan god Nyquil.
It was all so
simple; why hadn't I seen it before? The recipe
for spiritual success lay in a 12-ounce bottle of
cold medicine which, in conjunction with a six
pack of beer, would render nirvana to even the
most uncommited user.
Now, no one
starts out with a predilection for cold medicne.
Widely scorned as the "poor man's Quaalude,"
Nyquil earned its rep as a redoubtable
alternative to the less financially-achievable
highs like, dare I say it, Tangueray and Black
Jack. Say what you will, Nyquil truly is
the common man's nectar of the gods.
Nyquil in
packaged form comes provided with a convenient
plastic cup: discard this at once. Ministering
cold medicine unmeasured is a sure sign of
chemical sophistication; you should be able to
upend the awkward, triangular Nyquil container at
random and decant a suitable dose based on
intuition alone. If not, then you are not
prepared for Nyquil Elysium. But hang in there;
eventually, you'll get it right.
So where does
the 6-pack come into the picture? In fact, with
each additional 12-ounce can of beer, the effect
of the Nyquil is augmented by some 17%. So don't
sell it short; it is in fact a package deal. To
take the cold medicine without beer would be
tantamount to slurping up tequila without the
necessary salt and lime. It just ain't the same.
And finally,
as with every ritual, it is the ambiance which is
essential to the experience. To be quaffed in all
its glory, the multi-tiered Nyquil/beer cocktail
should be consumed barefoot -- nude, if at all
possible -- and in one's kitchen, preferably with
the fridge door ajar. As the refrigerator light
spills across the darkened kitchen tiles, crack
your beer, upend a flagon of cold medicine, and
nosh on a cold drumstick. Nirvana ain't far away.
Originally
published in published in Little Old Lady Comedy
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