A Bottled Message
It is April 24, world Tequila day. George and Franca stand at the center of the party area. They exchange pleasantries with familiar faces as they sip from their wine glasses..
George looks around.. He had been working at Chivas Brothers for five years now. Reasonably successful, he was proud of himself. Today, he was going to enjoy his success.
"One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor!"
The party had kicked into gear now. No more tame wines...
"Sweetheart, I want to use the restroom." Franca's voice draws him out of his reverie. "Alright hon."
He watches her go. As he aims to return his attention to the party, someone bumps into him, in the process slipping a bottle in his hands, and disappearing just as fast. He looked at his hands, he recognized the bottle, a 1920 vintage. George smiles, a nice surprise... then he stiffens. He rubs his eyes and looks closer. It was clear as daylight, in place of "Plata Tequila" was written... "Franca They'llKillHer"...

As he looks up, he notices someone raise another bottle up. It was Rum, only this time it was written clearly "Run".

...George never looked back.