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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:08 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:46 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:47 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:48 am
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How It Began
The feline bartender grins at you from across the counter, his hands busy as he creates your special cocktail – not just any cocktail, but a C*cktail, what with an asterix and everything. "I'm delighted to be doing this for you, you know," he says, and you wonder how his deft hands can measure and pour without his taking his eyes off you, "it's an absolute pleasure."
When you look down, your cocktail is done. It is pristine and perfect.
As you reach to admire it, he taps your fingers with a velveteen digit. "Finishing touches," he explains, and empties a solution from a small metal pellet into the drink. He slides a coaster under, and it is now truly complete.
You decide it's best not to drink it, now that it's obviously spiked.
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:50 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:51 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:51 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:52 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:53 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:54 am
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 11:55 am
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