| Saccharine Deception |
| Contributed by Eman Hatim, UK | ||||||||||||||||
| Sunday, 01 July 2007 | ||||||||||||||||
I wait in earnest to be the fortunate one, selected off the shelf in my darkened and mystifying packaging. I linger in the midst of my contemporaries, some more exclusive than I, rivals in the competition to be grabbed first by the up market hand.
The others are best depicted as cheap and cheerful, agreeable company for those in need of consoling and forgetful effects. Although, I do like to describe myself as accommodating in the hands of my consumer, liberating contentment upon request or sorrow upon solicitation. There are gemstones I am incapable of caressing, penetrating and manipulating. My whispered anecdotal and counterfeit assurances of bliss, consolation and endless hours of sweet love are sighted right through me and I am outmoded and shunted by them. They label my dizzying consequences as regretful, reprehensible and a misuse of their seemingly perfect time and lives. My substance is too murky and robust for their taste buds, my stench too hostile for their liking and my persuasions shunned as I have the supremacy to turn the X’s and Y’s of our civilization into incoherent beings, giving a free rein to all that may be X rated in their lives and manner. Conversely, I have sustained an upper hand over many, victims as juvenile as eleven and as old and grey as those on their death bed. I have dominated athletes, career men and adolescents with naught better to do with their lives and requiring a means to drown their aggravation and grief. The women are partial to my depth and sweetness, a warming sensation to their insides, the men favor me concentrated a shot to heat and scar the back of their throats as a testament to their masculinity. I am a current in their veins, slithering into every crevice, casing every brain synapse and mocking every muscle realignment, transforming them into puppets in their own homes. I am supreme in my addictiveness what with men begging for my kick over and over again. I give myself credit for I am misleadingly conniving in my saccharine promises and cunning delivery of foul language, man breasts and a parasite feeding on their livers and lovers too, fixing them up against each other. I am gin, I am tonic, I am whiskey, I am vodka and I am anything and everything you want me to be. I am the devil’s thirst-quencher, veiled to misguide you and intended to take you away from the virtuous path. I am your frailty in youth, your potential companion in misery and your devilish decoy of all that is taboo. Sample me, savour me, lick me, I won’t injure and I won’t dishearten, and I will play you to your friends’ games and peer pressure, trust me… You would be a fool to… You, the buds of our society, the plantations whom will nurture our poverty and the mouths whom will shield and educate Yemen, stand proud with certainty and steadfastness against all that coaxes the intellect to the shimmers of alcohol. Seize jurisdiction with a firm grip and let that be the mode you run your lives. However under no account should you undervalue your aptitude to take lead against that which is unhealthy and tickles the sanity. Be conscious of the inflexible power and penalties of such beverage surpassing your lips but more outstandingly, assemble your decisions with conviction for your heartfelt beliefs. Is alcohol really worth it in the end?
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