I just imagine my court hearing, the judge winding back time to ‘the day in question’ and I’m seen polishing a bottle of listerine. The prosecutors beam with delight and my defense feels defeated but little do they know that I quit drinking years ago. A silence falls over the court room as the analyst zooms in to the cap of the bottle: 0% ethanol.
Eruption on the court room. My nine wives now crying tears of glee, pitter pattering on the bald baby heads they each duel wield. The judge publicly apologizes and the counter settlement leaves me with a lifetime supply of Listerine.
But the devils in the details, somebody swapped the labels. It must have been that lawyer on the other team who kept giving me the evil eye because I made fun of his little hat. As I fall back into a dark rabbit hole I have a flashback of that man rubbing his stubby little hands together menacingly. My nine wives divorce me and leave for he and his cronies. That’s the day the music died.