Title: BARTENDING
Author: J. Juls jjuls@tbc.net
Series: TNG
Rating: R
Codes: Guinan/Lal, a-u
Summary: Bartending can be a tedious job at times....
Note: Written for the Femme Fuh-q Fest, http://www.oocities.org/femme_fuhq_fest/
Feedback: Greatly appreciated!
Archive: ASC*, FFF, anybody who asked before, or ask me.
Disclaimer: I know Paramount would eventually make this story into a movie if they could...Yeah, *that's* the ticket! Anyway, sorry Paramount for borrowing your characters and ship.
by J. Juls 3/25/01
I need a drink.
Don't want to replicate something in my quarters; I need some *real* stuff tonight. Those Blorkanians, what a bunch of assholes! Jesus, thought I was going to get my ass blown off for sure today--near miss. And Lt. Smeep wasn't so lucky; good thing Crusher was able to work her medical magic on him.
Ahhh, ten-forward. Nowhere better after a rotten day like this. Take stock of the room--pretty crowded. There's Deanna. Ow! Ssssssss--hot! "Hello, Deanna." Pat her ass; oh, yeah, she likes it. "Sure, my place. Later." Even Betazoids need to cut loose after a day like we had today.
"Guinan."
She always looks spacy, but even worse today. "Give me a beer and a shot. Real."
Guinan's slow today. I check out the clientele again; by the time I look back, she has a shot glass full of beer for me. And she's pouring the whiskey into the beer mug. "Uh, Guinan? I think it's the other way around." She looks at me, really funny. Just stares. She switches the glasses on the bar, slides 'em around like a shell game. "Ooo-kay, Guinan, have it your way." I give her a friendly punch on the shoulder, take the drinks to my table. Just not her day, probably.
Or that is what I would be expected to think after a day of battle such as we had today. Our diplomatic mission to Blorkania went seriously awry. Apparently, Starfleet Intelligence knew facts of which they declined to inform us: That the Blorkanians were much more hostile than they appeared. That certain Starfleet officers had meddled in their planetary affairs, causing discord among the Blorkanian leadership. That civil war was bubbling just under the surface of their society. We were lucky to escape with our ship and our lives intact.
Therefore I am on my way to ten-forward, where I shall imbibe several drinks and mingle with officers and crew. Before I taste my drink, however, I shall activate my emotion chip.
"Greetings, Guinan. I would like to sample another beverage. Have you any new varieties?"
Guinan seems most unresponsive tonight. Perhaps knowledge of our battle weighs on her mind. I shall ask again. "If you have no new varieties, may I try a revolting beverage? The green substance from Borknip 2 was most ghastly." Guinan can generally be amused by my reaction to drinking putrid substances. She slowly leans behind the bar and gets a bottle. She retrieves a glass, clumsily. I believe she has almost knocked three other glasses off the shelf. "Are you well, Guinan?" She smiles at me--but she is not looking at me with both eyes. Although she spills 1.2 milliliters, she pours the fluid mostly into the glass. "It is green," I say. I believe most humanoids would be amused by this remark. Guinan is not. She sighs.
I switch on my emotion chip and taste the beverage. I am surprised! It is not revolting! "This beverage is delicious, Guinan! I do not believe this is the substance from Borknip 2.... May I have more?"
She does not respond, but closes her eyes and smiles again. I pour myself an additional glass of the beverage and proceed to Geordi's table. I shall ask him his opinion of the cause of Guinan's anomalous behavior.
What an unmitigated disaster today on Blorkania! How did I let it get so out of hand? Merde! Starfleet will be on my arse for months. Maybe I'll even get a court-martial--despite the fact that it's Admiral Bronga and his Intelligence cronies who wrecked everything.
Nothing else to do; the crew need to see me, need to gather confidence from their Captain's presence. I'll go to ten-forward and ask Guinan for some of the '47 she has stashed.
"Hello, Guinan. Some of the '47, please." Instead of getting the bottle, she lays her head on the bar, face down; pounds on the bar with her fist. Looks up at me as if she didn't notice me before. "The '47, please, Guinan."
At last, she responds. She reaches into the stasis bin, gets a bottle--is she shaking? She takes a glass, pours. I cradle the glass, warm it, swirl it--check the bouquet. This is...(!)
It smells like swill! Am I going insane? No, I can't see the bottle; she's put it away. What has this woman done with my '47? Or am I the one going insane? I taste it to make sure...
:::spit:::
"This is *dishwater*, Guinan! This is *swill*! How can you even keep something this terrible in the same room with my '47?!"
Someone taps me on the shoulder--it's Data. Oh, one more thing..."What is it now, Mr. Data?"
"May I try some, Captain? It sounds...revolting."
Guinan stands stock-still, but her eyes clamp shut; her teeth show in a terrible grimace. A noise, a flash...lightning strikes across the ceiling of ten-forward, followed by a clap of thunder. The room shakes; my drink starts to boil! Everyone's drink starts to boil. Glasses shatter even before they fall off the shelves. "Guinan! I demand to know *what* is going on here!!"
END