Johnnie, whose father owned the inn, had filled the jug over the course of two weeks with splashes of whichever alcohol was at hand as he served, and whatever dregs were left in the cups. His father kept an eagle’s eye on his inventory, and knew too well the temptations of drink for a young man. He did not trust his son with a key to the cellar.
“Gawd, Johnnie, this is a hellish mixture you have made,” Stinky Samuelson declared, gasping, as he passed the jug to Eddie. Stinky’s real name was largely forgotten, his present moniker being the result of a sad fact of his existence: If something around had a foul stench, sooner or later Stinky would manage to fall into it.
“I think I got more whiskey this time,” Johnnie said, and belched.
“Not so much wine,” Eddie agreed. They were all feeling quite pleased with themselves. Ale was a regular part of their diets, but not one of their parents would approve of the luxury, waste, and ill effects of their sons drinking anything stronger.
With three-quarters of the jug gone, they were feeling cross-eyed and bold when Eddie lurched upright, bent over the log they leaned against, and vomited onto the rocks on the other side. When he raised his head and looked out over the bay in an effort to clear his head, he blearily made out Valerian digging her clams. “Now there is good female flesh wasted.”
Stinky and Johnnie crawled to their friend and poked their heads up above the log. Good female flesh was always worth a look.
“Who?” Johnnie asked.
“ ‘Er,” Eddie grunted, pointing with his chin. He propped his elbows on the log and tried to hold his head steady with his hands.
“Miss Bright?” Johnnie asked disbelievingly.
“Have you ever really looked at her? Really looked at her?” Eddie asked Johnnie.
“Why would I want to?”
“Ssshe is beautiful,” Eddie answered.
Johnnie was not buying it. “Not beautiful. But maybe she would be kind of pretty, if she were not . . . you know.”
Eddie belched, and wrinkled his nose at the taste of vomit, exhaling through his mouth. “What? You think she is going to turn into a badger and bite off your pecker the next time you take a piss in the woods?”
Johnnie colored. “You would not make such fun, if you had heard the things I have!”
“Aaaa, what things? A bunch of gossip. You have been washing too many dishes with your mother, Johnnie-boy.”
“My mum says there is plenty that goes on out at that cottage that we are better off knowing nothing of.”
“All I know is she has not ever done anything to me,” Eddie said.
“Well, I do not see you courting her, and you are the one lusting after her.”
Eddie shrugged. “Too old. But I tell you, she came into the smithy yesterday. I had not ever really looked at her. Was afraid to, I guess. She never seemed quite . . . I dunno. Friendly. Seemed like she would as soon whack you with a stick as talk to you.”
His friends nodded.
“But yesterday she was different. I caught her looking at me. You know. Looking at me like she wanted me.”
“Miss Bright?” Stinky asked incredulously.
“I think I could have had her right then and there if I had said anything.”
“I think your da’s been using your head for an anvil,” Stinky said.
“She was staring at me, her eyes all over my body. It was like I could feel them on me. And her face got all soft. She was pretty. And she has nice titties.”
“Do not let Gwen hear you say that,” Johnnie warned.
Eddie scrunched his face. “Gwen.”
“I thought you liked her?” Stinky asked.
“Sometimes she seems like such a child.”
“Oh,” Stinky said, rolling his eyes. “I understand. She won’t let you touch her, will she?”
Eddie rolled a shoulder in reply, and his friends hooted.
“So now Miss Bright,” Johnnie said, taking a swig from the jug. “To teach Gwen a lesson.”
“ I did not start it with her. She was the one looking at me.”
“Sure. We believe you,” Stinky said.
“Gawd, Johnnie, this is a hellish mixture you have made,” Stinky Samuelson declared, gasping, as he passed the jug to Eddie. Stinky’s real name was largely forgotten, his present moniker being the result of a sad fact of his existence: If something around had a foul stench, sooner or later Stinky would manage to fall into it.
“I think I got more whiskey this time,” Johnnie said, and belched.
“Not so much wine,” Eddie agreed. They were all feeling quite pleased with themselves. Ale was a regular part of their diets, but not one of their parents would approve of the luxury, waste, and ill effects of their sons drinking anything stronger.
With three-quarters of the jug gone, they were feeling cross-eyed and bold when Eddie lurched upright, bent over the log they leaned against, and vomited onto the rocks on the other side. When he raised his head and looked out over the bay in an effort to clear his head, he blearily made out Valerian digging her clams. “Now there is good female flesh wasted.”
Stinky and Johnnie crawled to their friend and poked their heads up above the log. Good female flesh was always worth a look.
“Who?” Johnnie asked.
“ ‘Er,” Eddie grunted, pointing with his chin. He propped his elbows on the log and tried to hold his head steady with his hands.
“Miss Bright?” Johnnie asked disbelievingly.
“Have you ever really looked at her? Really looked at her?” Eddie asked Johnnie.
“Why would I want to?”
“Ssshe is beautiful,” Eddie answered.
Johnnie was not buying it. “Not beautiful. But maybe she would be kind of pretty, if she were not . . . you know.”
Eddie belched, and wrinkled his nose at the taste of vomit, exhaling through his mouth. “What? You think she is going to turn into a badger and bite off your pecker the next time you take a piss in the woods?”
Johnnie colored. “You would not make such fun, if you had heard the things I have!”
“Aaaa, what things? A bunch of gossip. You have been washing too many dishes with your mother, Johnnie-boy.”
“My mum says there is plenty that goes on out at that cottage that we are better off knowing nothing of.”
“All I know is she has not ever done anything to me,” Eddie said.
“Well, I do not see you courting her, and you are the one lusting after her.”
Eddie shrugged. “Too old. But I tell you, she came into the smithy yesterday. I had not ever really looked at her. Was afraid to, I guess. She never seemed quite . . . I dunno. Friendly. Seemed like she would as soon whack you with a stick as talk to you.”
His friends nodded.
“But yesterday she was different. I caught her looking at me. You know. Looking at me like she wanted me.”
“Miss Bright?” Stinky asked incredulously.
“I think I could have had her right then and there if I had said anything.”
“I think your da’s been using your head for an anvil,” Stinky said.
“She was staring at me, her eyes all over my body. It was like I could feel them on me. And her face got all soft. She was pretty. And she has nice titties.”
“Do not let Gwen hear you say that,” Johnnie warned.
Eddie scrunched his face. “Gwen.”
“I thought you liked her?” Stinky asked.
“Sometimes she seems like such a child.”
“Oh,” Stinky said, rolling his eyes. “I understand. She won’t let you touch her, will she?”
Eddie rolled a shoulder in reply, and his friends hooted.
“So now Miss Bright,” Johnnie said, taking a swig from the jug. “To teach Gwen a lesson.”
“ I did not start it with her. She was the one looking at me.”
“Sure. We believe you,” Stinky said.
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