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He's been a doctor here for so many years that legend status caught
up with him and passed him ages ago.
But a few years ago, Doc got the idea of becoming a
viticulturalist -- a winemaker. He sent off for some high-class
grapevines and got them growing out behind the corral at his place.
In a few years, they were making grapes. Then Doc -- having read
everything on grapes, including Bacchus' own diary -- made some
wine, bottled it and set it aside to age. To age, that is, until
Saturday's unveiling.
He had his wife, Mrs. Doc, print up some labels on the computer,
and the result was three bottles of wine. And so, to the
accompaniment of cheese and crackers, he threw a wine-tasting.
Naturally, since we were his fellow co-conspirators at the Mule Barn
truck stop's world-dilemma think tank, we were invited.
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column]
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It was great. Mrs. Doc had candles lighted and some soft music
going on the stereo, and everyone got a sip and some munchies. Doc
was congratulated, and he was living it up.
Steve, the resident cowboy of our little group, took Doc to one
side with a question.
"How soon can you be in production, Doc?"
Doc lit up. "You think I should?"
"Sure. In fact, do you have any more of this wine here, you know,
that I could buy from you?"
"Sorry, Steve," Doc said, "but this is all of it. You really like
it, huh?"
"Well, no," Steve said, "but I've got this utility sink with a
blocked drainpipe..."
[Slim Randles]
Brought to you by "Raven's Prey," a thriller
of the far North. Available at
www.slimrandles.com.
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