poly_chromatic | eight drinks

Entry tags:

fright night - peter vincent

eight drinks

[video]

[Peter is barechested, with just a touch of makeup and the tightest leather pants he owns. He's also cleaned up, so you can tell he's dressed for the occasion.]

When life gives you lemons... grab the vodka.

Or better yet, come on down to the Master of Lemonade, where all the work's been done for you! Grab a glass, kick back, and relax.

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Not to a religion, but to something hallowed.

[Okay, he can't pretend to be serious for that long over something so ridiculous. It helps, admittedly, that Peter likely only ruined low-quality vodka...]

Did you add anything but lemon juice? That will taste awful.

It's lemonade. Jesus Christ, it's a fucking summer staple.

Lemonade is not made by putting a little lemon juice into vodka. Did you add sugar?

[SIGH] I've made lemonade before, you twitnit. It's water, sugar, lemon juice, and vodka. Try it for yourself.

[He shoves a glass at Chekov.]

[Chekov looks from the glass to Peter as if he suspects he has been given poison. After a moment, though, he downs the whole thing... and makes a terrible face.]

It needs more sugar.

Of course you'd say that; you're twelve.

If I am twelve, you are not a day younger than forty-five.

That hurts, Chuckles. That really hurts.

[He... actually can't tell if Peter is joking or not.]

That was not my intention.

Yeah, well, the road to hell and all that. You can make it up to me -

[He plunks a jug in front of Chekov.]

by helping me make more of this stuff.

[Sigh.]

Your supply outweighs your demand already.

Not a bit.

[And he chugs some more.]

[He sighs again and takes another glass, dumping part of the lemonade out to make room for an obscene amount of sugar.]

You will kill yourself of alcohol poisoning.

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eight drinks

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