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Shorts
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| Double or Nothing | |
| By Snodlander | ||||||||||||||||||
| 04 May 2007 | ||||||||||||||||||
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“Gavrilo, one more. Just one more drink. Can’t Bosnians hold their liquor? The Austrians, now, they can drink like real men.” “I can drink, drink any bloody Austrian under the table. Austrian beer is piss weak. Only, I’ve got something I need to do tomorrow.” The young Bosnian looked into the bottom of the near-empty tankard. “I’ve got a job. I need a clear head tomorrow.” His friend laughed. “I thought real men never got hangovers. You’ve talked nothing but politics all evening, you need another drink to lighten up. Put some fire in your belly.” He waved to the barkeep. “Two more beers over here, landlord. My friend and I need to enjoy ourselves.” Gavrilo Princip shook his head, then immediately regretted it as the room spun. “How can I enjoy myself? How can anyone that calls himself a Bosnian enjoy himself, under the heel of the Austrian invaders?” He stood up and shouted, “Long live Bosnia!” then collapsed heavily back into his chair. Gavrilo’s drinking companion laughed all the more. “What about Serbia?” “Yeah, long live them too, if it gets us out from under those fat bastards’ empire.” The landlord placed two fresh tankards of beer in front of the men. He had a sour look on his face. “Tell your friend to keep it down. I don’t want the secret police closing me down. The town is full of them for tomorrow’s visit.” Gavrilo suddenly became serious. “No, no, you’re right. I have to keep sober. Sober and quiet. Got a job to do tomorrow. I told you I didn’t want another beer… erm… erm… wassyername?” “Jusuf. And it’s only one more beer. Here, a toast. To Bosnia-Herzegovina. What? You call yourself a Bosnian and you won’t drink to your homeland?” Gavrilo grabbed Jusuf’s wrist. “Don’t you ever say that. By God, don’t you ever say I’m not a Bosnian. If you knew. If you knew what I was prepared to do for my country.” He grabbed the tankard and held it high. “To Bosnia, mother of my people!” He sank half the contents in a long draught. “Gavrilo, I apologise. Honestly I do. We have only met this evening and I can see already that you are a true patriot. I never for one moment thought you anything less. Here, I’m sorry. Really. Let me make it up to you. Landlord! A bottle of vodka over here, and two glasses. We have two patriots, two real men, who need to toast each other with a real man’s drink.” “No, I told you, I’m not drinking tonight. I’m staying sober. Got to pay my respects to the high and mighty Austrian prince tomorrow.” “Exactly, my friend. Beer befuddles the mind and weakens the heart. Vodka, now! Vodka sharpens the mind and strengthens the resolve. Just one glass, and it will undo the glass or two of beer we sampled this evening.” Jusuf filled the two small shot glasses with vodka. “To our Serbian allies, God bless them all.” “Just so long as you realise I’m staying sober,” replied Gavrilo, tossing back the spirit. *** Gavrilo sat slumped across the table, moaning occasionally in his stupor. Jusuf stood and made his way over to the corner table and grinned at the man sat there. “See? I told you I could do it. He’s far too drunk to get up tomorrow morning, let alone assassinate Duke Ferdinand. I told you I could stop World War I with a level six intervention. Now, how much did we bet?” “Yeah, yeah. OK, you won. Double or nothing?” “What did you have in mind?” “Now you’ve stopped it, start it again with another level six intervention that won’t get picked up by the time auditors.”
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great twist, i didn't expect that.
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