Spill

Last night I had a funny dream, it seemed I'd lost my self-esteem. Among the bottles in the shop I stood and heard a noisy pop. And, to avoid a sudden spillage (which would turn gossip in our village) I threw myself down to the floor and drank champagne, and then some more. The manager came walking over accompanied by watchdog Rover. 'What is it that you seek down there, ' he asked, displaying utmost flair. By now the dog had started licking the fluids which were quickly sticking to beautiful Italian tiles the manager now scratched his piles. No matter how I tried to reason my action, he now called it treason, he said that no one hits the ground to drink the bubblies that he found. And that a human can't be free unless he has his dignity. I left the shop on rubber legs picked up a dozen chicken eggs and once at home made creamy grog they call it here the Great Eggnog. Sat in the lounge with wife Louise and filled her glass, (she is a tease) . One sip - it went a bit astray! she coughed and sputtered, I must say. And jumped around, knocked down the nog went on her knees, just like a frog and started sucking off the slate the stuff, so I did join her, mate. We didn't waste a dropp at all and made some more (we had a ball) . I never scolded her for spilling we both were keen and rather willing to lower our noble selves like busy Christmas season elves and do what needed to be done with dignity and lots of fun. That stupid clown inside the store he must be silly to his core. He thinks that I committed treason and overlooked the real reason, environmental pride for liquor it helps the soul and feeds the ticker.