Margarita

During this week's Twitter chat with @Story_Craft, writers were challenged to write a Flash Fiction story from the point of view of an inanimate object. Since we could choose any topic, other than animals, I chose one of my favorite things--Magaritas. Check it out and let me know what you think.

Being popular isn’t always a good thing, although there’s never a dull moment. People go in search of me at their favorite restaurants and bars after a long day at the office or whatever job they have that makes them need a liquid stress reliever. I come frozen or on the rocks. I also come in a number of fruity flavors. The amount of Tequila that I’m made of varies, depending on the person mixing me up and of course on the drinker’s preference.

Now this may be hard to believe but there are virgin margaritas. OMG! I mean come on, it’s 2010. How much fun could a virgin margarita be?

When I’m in a basic mood, I’m made of a nice blend of Tequila, Cointreau, fresh lime juice, sweet and sour mix, and a splash of orange juice. But when I’m feeling sassy and feel like getting dressed up, I’m accompanied by strawberry, mango, raspberry or sometimes watermelon. Once I’m blended up and poured into a sleek, sexy glass, honey nobody can tell me nothing but how good they think I’m going to taste. Please believe that there aren’t too many people that can resist the moisture dripping down the sides of my glass and the salt or sugar around the rim. Whew! Is it getting hot in here or what?

A worry disappears with each sip of me until the drinker is stress free. Now, please take caution when partaking of my goodness. If the drinker sips too fast—ooo wee—brain freeze. And nobody wants anything resembling a headache ruining their good time.

Now don’t feel sorry for me because people are always drinking me up, I don’t die baby, I multiply. Don’t believe me; check me out at the next happy hour.