Wishfull Shopping
Limestone has long been the ideal material of choice for commercial structures in this area of the country ever since the Civil War era. It is plentiful, a pretty good insulator, and when fashioned by skilled craftsmen can make an imposing edifice.
Thus it was when I approached the fortress like building in the center of town that bore a simple sign saying: “Hill Country Spirits.” Reaching out, I turned the worn big brass handle of the massive Oak front door, half expecting to come upon a darkened room with a velvet cloth covered table and interrupting a séance in session.
But, my original analysis of the meaning was correct. There were row upon row of bottles in back of the counter in all shapes, colors and sizes. A solitary bare bulb hung down from the ceiling, casting ominous shadows in all directions.
The clerk was waiting on a little old lady who was conservatively dressed in a dark gray unadorned dress which hung shapelessly down to her ankles. Her hair was swept up into a bun which bobbed up and down as she shook her index finger while speaking to the clerk.
“Are you sure that this is marked 'Cooking Wine'?” she demanded. “Yes, Ma'am.” he answered mechanically, almost before she had finished speaking.After paying then taking what seemed like ten minutes to count her change, she departed.
It was now my turn to advance to the counter and be greeted by the erstwhile clerk.
“How Y'all?” he boomed out at me cheerfully.When he smiled, it was an imposing display of crooked tobacco stained teeth, minus one of his upper incisors. The one tooth next to the gaping abyss had a large gold filling, probably a relic of more prosperous Rodeo days in his youth. His half gray hair was neatly tied into a pony tail, which hung down way over the collar of his cowboy shirt.
“That lady,” he drawled, pointing to the door, “is one of my best customers.” “She comes in every week and buys a bottle.” He gestured over to the shelf that was lined with Gallo Thunderbird. “I made up a bunch of labels that say 'Cooking Wine', stick it over the regular label and then she doesn't have to worry if she runs into any of her Southern Baptist neighbors, or worse still the Parson himself.” “Then, she turns on the TV and gets juiced every Saturday night.”Interrupting his soliloquy, I said: “I want to get something special for Christmas.”
“You done come to the right place, sir.” “We got a whole slew of specials.” “Do you have any Lafite?”He cocked his head to one side and squinted before answering.
“Mister, this ain't no shoe store.” “If you is looking for something to wear on your feet, you gotta mosey over to J.C. Penney or Wal Mart.” “They is the only ones that sells shoes.”Rather than extend that discussion further, I opted to try a different tack.
“How about some Latour?”This time, he took a deep breath, puckered his lips and made a clean hole in one putting a plug of his chewing tobacco into the spittoon before replying.
“Sir, ah don't know how good your eyes is or ain't but it don't say travel agency outside, neither.” “It ain't none of my bizness, but ah never figured out why anybody would want to go on one of them there tours anyhow.” “Where could be any purdyer than the Hill Country?”Now, it was my turn to take a deep breath before proceeding.
“Ok,” I said with some deliberation, “Do you have any Cheval Blanc?” “Listen here mister,” he whistled through his teeth, the patient smile persisting. “We don't don't sell no shovels, and we don't sell no blankets, neither!” “If y'all is looking for that kinda stuff, go to Wal Mart!”Sensing failure in my quest, I decided to throw caution to the winds.
“What do you have that I can drink with Christmas Dinner?”He beamed from ear to ear this time around.
“Why didn't y'all say so in the first place?” “Got just the thang for y'all,” as he ran to an ice chest at the end of the counter. “Here is a couple of six packs of long necks!” “I'll take 'em.” Putting a ten down on the counter, I had the last word. “Keep the change, and Y'all have a Merry Christmas!”Godzilla