Wine

Furio, unscrewing the cap.

I’m developing a taste for finer things, Furio says. This is from my cellar.

Furio, necking wine. Passing it around.

In wine is truth, right? he says.

In wine is piss, Dragan says. It’s disgusting!

Fuck – rank! I say.

It’s only what we deserve, Perry says. It’s anti-wine for anti-philosophers.

Helmut, shaking his head. This wine’s off in some fundamental sense. It’s ontologically corrupt.

It’s not even wine – just piss, Dragan says.

Cat piss, I say.  

The smell of cat piss is actually a sign of quality, Furio says. It means it’s tangy. Kind of funky …

What about rat piss? Dragan says.

How do you know what rat piss tastes like? I ask.

I’m inferring it, Dragan says. From this.

It’s Satan’s piss, basically, Perry says. These grapes were trampled by Satan himself.

Get used to it – I bought a job lot, Furio says.

We could libate this campus, Perry says. Exorcise its demons.

Good luck with that, Dragan says.

It actually has stuff in it, Helmut says. Floating.

Natural sediments, Furio says.

I think they’re flies, Perry says. Satan’s, like, the Lord of Flies right?

There must be a German word for how disgusting this is, I say. Tell us, Helmut.