Mcnally's Trial
“SUNNY FOGARTY GREETED ME at the door of her condo holding a pilsner of beer. I made a rapid mental calculation of the number and variety of spirituous beverages I had consumed that evening, beginning with the family cocktail hour: gin martini, vodka gimlet, white wine, cognac. I reckoned a beer might push me beyond the point of no return, but then I took solace from the traditional collegiate dictum: “Beer, whiskey: rather risky. Whiskey, beer: have no fear.”
Sunny ushered me into her living ro...om, motioned me to an armchair, and brought me a duplicate of her glass of suds.
“It’s Budweiser,” she informed me. “I have nothing more exotic.”
“Bud is fine,” I assured her and swilled half my drink to prove it.
“Has the party ended?” she asked.
“It was breaking up as I departed.”
“I think it went well, don’t you?”
“It went beautifully. I saw no one upchuck, no one was falling-down drunk, and there were no fights. Ergo, a successful bash. You planned it, didn’t you, Sunny?”MoreLess
Sunny ushered me into her living ro...om, motioned me to an armchair, and brought me a duplicate of her glass of suds.
“It’s Budweiser,” she informed me. “I have nothing more exotic.”
“Bud is fine,” I assured her and swilled half my drink to prove it.
“Has the party ended?” she asked.
“It was breaking up as I departed.”
“I think it went well, don’t you?”
“It went beautifully. I saw no one upchuck, no one was falling-down drunk, and there were no fights. Ergo, a successful bash. You planned it, didn’t you, Sunny?”MoreLess
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