Spam Likely — Netbook

[unheiring]

[One morning, after everyone has been bone-raptured out of the grove, a series of messages begin appearing both on cellphones and netbooks alike. They’re… ingredience? Weird.]


Love Potion Cocktail
5 fresh raspberries
1 ½ ounces vodka
1 ½ ounces Chambord, raspberry liqueur
4 ounces ginger beer
dry ice, optional

The Nomad Special
Whiskey
Greasy Nut

Galaxy Lemonade
3 Ice Cubes Of Blue Matcha Powder
1 Cup Water
½ Cup Vodka
72 Ounces lemonade

The Blood Razor
Red Wine
Brandy
Razor Blade
Cherry Soda

Il Rigeneratore
1 Egg Yolk
Half a Glass of Asti Spumante
3 Roasted Walnuts
3 Teaspoons Sugar
1 Banana

Champagne Jelly Shots with Pomegranate Bursting Boba
2 cups Champagne or sparkling wine
1/3 cup 65g granulated sugar
1 packet .25 oz. powdered gelatin
1 container 15.8 oz. pomegranate bursting boba
1/3 cup heavy whipping cream
2 tablespoons white nonpareils
Gold edible stars
18 sprigs of rosemary about 1 ½ stems

[The spam continues on like this for some time. When the messages do finally stop, it lasts for about three minutes before one final note comes through.]

… Sorry. No other option but to send through these strange devices.

Comments

[unheiring]

[Well. Remind Luca to never go to that McDonalds. He just knows he's gonna get spit in his filet o' fish.]

Not as far as I am aware. I remain unconvinced that one of the bone men didn't make it up to tease me.

[That's not going to stop him from serving it, though.]

Drink up. Enjoy.

[lupusxylem]

[Eugh.

Wolfwood eyes the glass warily, swirling it in hand for a moment before he downs it quickly, careful to keep his lips pursed so he doesn’t accidentally swallow the fucking nut. Immediately he gets the sharp burn of whisky, so at first it seems like it’ll be fine…but right after that comes the most awful acrid taste that’s definitely from the greasy metal which causes him to sputter and cough as he hunches forward against the bar, the slow realization dawning that this flavor is going to stick around for a while.]

Christ, augh.

[unheiring]

[Look, Luca doesn't laugh outright at Wolfwood, but he does hold a hand to his mouth to muffle something. He expected as much of a reaction.]

That bad, mm? I suppose I will not be adding it to our menu any time soon.

[As an apology, he pours a fresh glass of whiskey, then pushes it over to Wolfwood.]

To cleanse your palate.

[lupusxylem]

[Listen, he COULD have just not drank it but also: he’s not a pussy. He’s also very stupid, so-

He’ll take the new glass and knock it back quickly, because as harsh as straight whiskey is, it’s at least going to mask that flavor a little bit, he hopes. He wipes his thumb across his stubble afterwards, looking grave.]

That was fuckin’ foul. You can put it on the menu if you want the hologram people to threaten to sue, sure.

[unheiring]

[Luca lifts a hand, muffling his amusement.]

Ah, but that's the issue, Saint. I found this here. It is a recipe from this bar itself.

[He pushes over a little menu card and, sure enough, there it is.]

Now, is there anything else you may desire off the menu? I'm happy to comply.

[lupusxylem]

…what the fuck? Why?

[Okay maybe the people here are just stupid. He’s going to assume they’re stupid until further notice.

For now…hmm.]

Let’s do the Galaxy Lemonade. That’s one of the few normal soundin’ ones.

[unheiring]

[Luca just shrugs as he pulls down a bottle of vodka, then bends down to remove a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge, and some ice cubes from the freezer. Three of the cubes are added to a glass, then both of the liquids, before being stirred together. The colors already begin to bleed together.]

Probably a touch fruity for you, but... enjoy.

[Luca pushes it over to Wolfwood.]

[lupusxylem]

Hey, I can fuck with pretty much any kinda drink. I like sweet stuff too.

[Why do you think he has suckers in his pocket!!

Anyway, thank god for a normal fucking drink. He’ll take a relieved sip of it, relishing the sweet and sour flavor.]

I just prefer whiskey and bourbon n’shit. Hits you faster with less effort.

[unheiring]

How surprising!

[He'll mentally jot that down for his own purposes. In the meanwhile, a sly grin splits his lips.]

And shit? In your whiskey, or on the side?

[lupusxylem]

Haha.

[Wolfwood shakes his head, taking another swig from the glass.]

Are you capable of NOT bein’ sarcastic?

[unheiring]

Sarcasm?

[He holds his hand to his chest like an affronted maiden.]

I have no idea what you could possibly mean!

[lupusxylem]

Yeah, you could win a contest with that. A “who can be the most sarcastic” contest.

[But is that truly a bad thing? He speaks as if HE isn’t a sarcastic motherfucker half the time.]

Have you had anybody else come try this stuff, by the way?

[unheiring]

I don't know. The competition would be rather steep, don't you think?

[He sees you, Wolfwood. He knows you.]

A few have, though none have been quite so... [His mouth forms a word that starts with an "s," but he thinks better of it.] Adventurous as you.

[lupusxylem]

[Wolfwood scoffs.]

Well why have a drink at all on the menu if nobody’s gonna try it, right?

[So you chose to be the guinea pig-]

[unheiring]

You know nothing about this populace though, Saint. There could be robots capable of actually enjoying the swill you drank.

[Just smirking away.]

Perhaps think twice next time you see something strange on a menu? Lest I make a point of pulling awful pranks on you!

[lupusxylem]

I mean, you can do that. Just expect me to come back for revenge if you do.

[Wolfwood doesn’t let a prank go laying down, alright, which reminds me I have a super belated netbook post to make-]</