“The One and Only” Ch.14

A year had passed. One long series of seasons had come and gone as Dionysus found himself exiting a train and onto a platform. Quickly, he made his way down a series of steps coated in rust, until he found himself walking along an inconspicuous stretch of road. As he walked he noted the sun setting over the old oaks and walnut trees, leaves cast in autumn, the golden light turning to orange as the shadows of the street deepened.

He smiled, then headed across the street to an old bar set far away from where it should be.

He stepped inside, looking at the various patrons, large pitchers of drink rapidly draining into their mouths. He approached the bartender, who lacked a chin and had bulging eyes.

”Twelve shots of Tsipouro brandy,” he ordered.

The man smiled, retrieving a dusty bottle and went about pouring the shots.

“Very refined taste,” he commented.

“Not refined," said Dionysus. “Just old.”

When the shots were lined up, Dionysus picked up the first one, holding it up in a toast.

“Hermes,” he said, as he knocked back the liquor.

“Artemis,” he said in continuation.

And so it went until he reached the twelfth shot.

Dionysus looked down at it a long time. He thought on all the great gods he remembered. Every year this toast. A repetition of a ritual. But never for him. It was never for him. For he was not worthy. Because he had failed them.

With that thought he grabbed the shot and held it up.

“Dionysus," he said, as he knocked it back, absently placing the empty shot glass upside down on the counter.

A small spark jumped off the glass as it contacted the bar.

The booze was swimming in his head as he noted the sun setting completely. Searching the room, he settled on an arrangement of girls. He steadied himself, sighing lightly in inebriation. Then he readied his body and headed over.

He was Dionysus. The god of revelry, drink, and madness.

And he had a lot of time to make up for.