(I thought of this and didn't know what to do with it. My apologies if it is not your style.)
"If you got drunk ONCE by ACCIDENT then you CANNOT call yourself an alcoholic!" -- Anon Guest
Most intelligent creatures have something close enough to alcohol for Humans to drink it and find it close enough to get drunk on. Elves have a potent honey brew that, after a few beginning incidents, were served to the Humans in thimble-sized glasses. Elves drink it out of tankards. They know how to party.
Kobolds, by comparison, shouldn't have alcohol. Their draconic heritage means that they do not react to it as if it were a depressant. However, they do brew up a thick, dark liquid that is ordinarily served in shell-like spoons.
Marvin had, only yesterday, made the mistake of trying 'a swig'. This was the morning after. He walked in a world of broken glass, splinters, and ear-splitting klaxons that nobody else was sensitive to. His squint said that light was being mean to him as well, even the dim light of the candles. Lady Anthe, watching him creep painfully towards the table and sit as if he were performing a penance, decided to be merciful. "Have we learned something?" she murmured.
"...ow," Marvin whimpered. "I'm going sober. I'm an alcoholic. This is a sign. I hit rock bottom. Now I'll never touch another drop of alcohol -or whatever that was- ever, ever again."
Wrong lesson. Rumtum, drinking something that was originally milk, was closer to yoghurt, and definitely not for staying sober, said, "You can not get drunk once by accident and then call yourself an alcoholic."
"It's true," said Lady Anthe, "If anyone in this group is an alcoholic, it's Rumtum."
"Absolutely," Rumtum agreed. "Alcoholics never have hangovers 'cause they're always drunk. Like me!"
Wraithvine descended, graceful as always, as if the prodigious amount of wine they'd imbibed had happened to someone else. "How's our poor Human?" ze said.
"In pain," answered Lady Anthe. "The lesson, Marvin, is accept the given serving size."
"Even then, sample cautiously. Good fare for one is oft poison for another," added Wraithvine. They strode off to the bar to have an intense discussion with the bartender, then came back with something in a large mug. "Sip slowly, now."
Marvin had evidently learned his lesson. He sniffed the mug and said, "It smells like tomato soup..."
"It more or less is," said Wraithvine. "With a few little extras. Small, slow sips, now."
He did that, and Lady Anthe watched as his private splinters and other tortures faded from Marvin's world. By the time he was a quarter through it, he noticed it too and gulped the rest down. "By the gods' mercies..."
"The things that make Kobolds drunk are more than a little toxic to humans," lectured Wraithvine. "You're strong enough to resist the worst of it, but many of them linger. The stuff in that 'soup' you just drank has started the chelation process. It'll help clean the lingering poisons out. Unfortunately, the downsides are--"
Marvin bolted from his chair, headed to the privy. "Gotta go!"
"--a need to vacate those poisons as quickly as possible," said Wraithvine. Ze sat in Marvin's vacated chair. "Tried to tell him last night," ze murmured. "Those who do not listen will learn..."
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / goir]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me. Or share them with your friends!
Send me a prompt [43 remaining prompts!]