Specialty Mocktails
written by Alex Singer —
"Sloppy Blowjob. Two Tugs on a Mug. Bukake Daiquiri — pfff. Mild spurt, maybe."
"Looking for the hardest thing on the menu?"
"You’re looking for the hardest thing on the menu," said Felix, automatically. Jo stared. He backed down. "Aahaha right, no. Do I look like I want to drink paint thinner? Just want the most try-hard one they got."
Jo glanced around the bar, where the rest of the patrons were either passed out or on their way there. "That's the one with the spell in it, then?"
"No idea," said Felix, still browsing the bartender's cheat sheet. "When they call this place a hole, need to know how glorious they're talking about, yeah? Lessee. Slow Comfortable Screw. Not with those ratios. Ass Juice. Points for honesty. Screaming Orgasm — aaaand points deducted. Everyone everywhere does that one."
"This a bar or a brothel?" said Jo. She sat herself at the counter and leaned over her knuckles, boredly.
"Depends which hole people are paying for... eh, who am I kidding. In this economy? Which one they're selling."
Every person who'd been brought in for going into berserk rages in random places in the last week had had a drink here. That wasn't just general repression talking. Every single one of them had tested a ridiculous amount of alcohol in their bloodstream. Alcohol that should have dispersed hours ago. When given a different type of test, it'd come up absolutely teaming with magic. Which meant some kind of incantation. Which, in liquid form, meant a witch's brew.
Which meant the Archive wanted it on record. They'd never found one in liquor form.
"Thiiiis one might do it," said Felix.
He emerged from behind the counter with four different bottles of brightly colored liqueur and a pepper shaker full of chili flakes. He threw down a sizable mug and splashed the contents in liberally. The concoction was bright red.
"What's this one called?" asked Jo, sickly curious as she peered through the flying chili flakes. There was a decidedly molten look to this one.
"Dragon Riders of Porn," said Felix, after a meaningful pause.
"That's..." Jo thought about it. "Kind of weak."
"Little limp," said Felix, smugly.
He threw in the last drop and stuck a finger in. Almost immediately, the mug began roiling with ill intent. Felix shoved the bar rag into the top. The spell immediately began to pop and bubble in a rage to have been caught.
"Jola-Jola," Felix sang. "Might need you to stand up."
"I'm not drinking that," said Jo.
"I know,” said Felix, looking over her shoulder. "But they want to."
The patrons were, at present, waking up and opening their eyes. Each and every one of them bloodshot and burning with a strong desire to get into the worst bar fight imaginable.
Jo swung around on her stool, surveying the lot of them.
"You take me to the nicest places," she said, flatly.