Burgon, sour mash. Corn Whiskey.
Staring off into nothing, sipping bourbon, keeping the monotone level. I would like to spend a day talking like this in every social exchange as if there was a solemn violin theme going on behind everything I say. My Richard Burgon Day.
|Binro the Heretic |
In a bizarre twist, however, the patrons still referred to bourbon as "burgon" for months afterwards just to keep the joke going. After a while, nobody broke into laughter, but that didn't stop them. People kept asking for "burgon" and the bartender gave them bourbon.
New patrons were puzzled, but when they saw the long-time patrons calling it "burgon" they did so as well, thinking it was some kind of code or odd tradition.
If the poor kid had walked in there a year later and asked for "burgon", he would have been given bourbon without anyone laughing.
Two Jar Slave
In my mind, that is now a canonical follow-up to this anecdote.
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