The woman behind the bar said, that’s your fourth drink, if you want any more you’ll need to apply in writing. She handed me a clipboard with a piece of paper. An application form? I said. She shrugged. New rules.
I took the form back to our table to show everyone. They want me to apply for my next drink, I said. I have to agree to a partial or entirely unproductive day tomorrow. I have to agree to a cycle of sweat and fever-like symptoms, waves of nausea, thirst, dizziness and probable headache. I also have to agree to possible gastrointestinal effects including but not limited to the excessive evacuation of too-fluid faeces or violent ejection of matter from the stomach through the mouth.
Everyone said, eeeww! The bar woman hurried over with a second clipboard. Apologies, she said, I gave you the wrong form. The correct form requires your consent to feel outrageously invincible, to be extra outgoing and twice as hilarious despite potential to say or do things you might regret later and to experience a heightened emotional state of overwhelming love and affection for all of your friends, even the unattractive ones.
Everyone said, sign that one!
Grabbing the pen I thought, all paperwork should be this much fun.
A story from my book Ministry of Ideas, now available in the digital realm.