Absinthe

by Peter Gifford

“So, how do you do it?“

“Well, it's a long and involved procedure.“

“Is it? I just took a swig out of the bottle in the kitchen“

“No no no. Here, go back in there and get a teaspoon and some sugar.“

“Do you have the absinthe?“

“There’s no need to shout, I’m only in the next room. Yeah, it’s in there on the table.“

“Here. Hey, what’s the needle for?“

“I told you, it's a long and involved procedure. First we pour a bit of absinthe in —the glass like so. Then we take a heaped spoonful of sugar and dip it in the absinthe — “

“Is this going to hurt?“

“Quiet, I’m concentrating. Now, we light the sugar, let it burn for a bit — plunge into the glass. Now, pass me that needle —“

“Ugh. I hate the things. This better be good.“

“Trust me. If it’s good enough for Oscar Wilde it's good enough for you.“

“Sure, and look where he ended up.“

“ Immortal. Famous. Quoted. Now, wrap this belt ’round your arm, and hold this end with your teeth.“

“Mmmfugmmfh ...“

“Ready? No, you don’t have to look if you don’t want. Really, it won’t hurt, it just takes a little while to go in. It’s a beautiful colour isn't it? Like the liquid in the vial the mad scientist would hold up to the light before drinking. All it needs is some big bubbles and a smoky white haze over the glass — you know, they say that if you took absinthe too much you could go mad, but there's no proof of that, it’s harmless really, never hurt anyone. I’ve been drinking it for years now, and look at me. Well, what do you think? Wonderful isn't it? I can tell you like it. You’ve gone all quiet. And green.“