jack attack! jack attack!

I stopped by the liquor store on the way home, with the intent to buy a fifth of Makers. Maker's marks the spot, you know.

And then the serpent slithered into the store. Uncle Jack wanted to know where I'd been. He said he wished we could talk like we used to. I told him he had sold his soul to satan. He had altered his recipe for the sake of profit. Man can not serve both God and mammon.

Jack was on sale. I live in Minnesota. We're crazy about deals. We live our lives to get a "heckova" deal. A good deal is cool, but if you get a "heckova" deal, you're livin'. So I decided to live a little bit. I gave up on my boycott of Jack (I still think they're bastards, btw), and bought a fifth of Jack. And boy, did I get one heckova a deal on it.

I know, I'm a sell out. The serpent is crafty, so beware.

It's been somewhere in the realm of six months since uncle jack and I last talked. He still feels like an old friend.