Quote:
Originally Posted by taxwonk
"Rinse and spit."
There. Are you happy now?
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The Perfect Martini:
Ironweed drives the rental car through the featureless suburban New Jersey street and pulls over near a telephone pole covered in fliers advertising garage sales and displaying pictures of lost pets. He dries his perspiration-soaked hands on his yellowing shirt, opens a bottle of Mr. Boston gin and takes an unnaturally long drink. He fights the first wave of nausea, but is secretly pleased he still has any reaction. Across the street, a man staggers out of a garage in khakis and a white t-shirt. A woman with tear-stained cheeks runs after him and smashes a greenish bottle across his head, shattering it. The man falls to the ground and, in his last moment of consciousness, his eyes focus on a shattered piece of glass with the remnant of a label hanging from it that reads "ERMOUT." Ironweed takes another prolonged drink, drops the still open bottle to the floor, and starts driving to nowhere in particular.
