Anselmo Sanchez laughingly set his mug of beer down. "Man, you got your job easy," he rambled. "Just sleep while the damn lawyers scream themselves hoarse."
Roderick Torres finished his beer and handed the mug over to the bartender for a refill. It was Friday night, the beer was bottomless and they had been drinking non-stop. "The work's easy," he remarked. "The pay's horrible. If I ever get married, my wife's gonna have to have a job that pays at least as much as mine."
"But you're a judge, JT!"
"Big title, low pay."
The bartender handed JT back his mug. "How much do you make?" JT asked him. "Basic pay?"
"About SS45."
"You see?" JT said to Anselmo, pointing at the bartender. "This guy makes almost as much money as I do!"
"Ever tried resigning?"
"They begged me to stay. It's an 'honorable profession,' they said," JT grumbled. He took a large gulp of beer as Anslemo, handed his mug to the bartender for a refill.
"And they didn't increase your salary," Anselmo concluded.
"What do they think we are, priests?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"At least the priests have it easy."
"I don't think so," said a voice.
Both turned to Anselmo's right and beheld a priest calmly sipping a glass of rum. Anselmo went pale and leaped up with a "Yipe!"
"What's with the 'yipe?'" asked the priest. "I drink as much as everyone else does."
"You mind introducing me to your friend?" asked JT.
They both looked at Anselmo, who was still petrified.
"I'm Father Lorenzo Guevarra," said the priest, extending a hand.
"Judge Rodreick Torres, MTC," said JT, shaking the priest's hand. "So you two know each other?"
"Sort of."
"Hey, I know you," said JT, pointing at the priest. "You were one of Cardinal Zhang's proteges. Yeah, you were famous. The guy with the violin."
"I'm flattered," said Lorenzo. "Yes, I was famous, going on world tours, working with orchestras."
"You still play the violin?"
Lorenzo nodded.
"Hey," said JT, leaning forward. "Is it true you can drink like and elephant and not get drunk?"
"Who told you that?"
JT looked at Anselmo, who was still petrified. Lorenzo followed his gaze.
"Hey, I'm bored to death," said JT. "Why don't you and me try something?"
"Such as?"
A table was chosen and a bartender summoned. Both parties decided to contribute to the cost. The drink of choice was wine. Whoever got knocked out last was the winner. Before the still-petrified Anselmo, the combatants took their seats.
"Before we begin," said Lorenzo. "Let me give a slight suggestion."
He turned to the bartender. "Bartender," he said, "give us the oldest wines you got."
The bartender began with a 2009 Chablis. In less than thirty minutes, it was depleted with neither side defeated. Next was a 2009 Pinot Grigio. That, too, failed to put either one down.
"You're really good at this, aren't you?" muttered JT.
"Not really," Lorenzo replied. "Just had a lot of practice."
A 2010 Cabernet Shiraz came next. Both were now starting to feel the effects but neither gave up.
"Wanna give up?" asked JT.
"Give up? I'm just getting all warmed up!"
An unmarked (but rather old) Sherry came next.
"I'm ruling Spain!" cried JT."
"Give it up, Don Rodrigo!"
People were now placing bets. Some were on the judge, some on the priest.
A 2011 Pinot Noir came next. Now both were tipsy.
"Give it up, will ya?" said JT. "It's obvious you won't win."
Lorenzo filled his glass to the brim.
Next came a 2012 Cabernet Sauvignon. Both were now leaning over the table. Anselmo was still petrified.
"Hey, what's his problem?" JT asked, pointing at Anselmo.
"Beats me."
An unmarked but old Moscato came in next.
Lorenzo put his head on the table halfway through the Moscato.
"I win!" JT roared triumphantly. He stood up, fell back down on his seat and slumped onto the table. He was asleep
Lorenzo straightened up and drank his last gulp. "Looks like I win," and slumped backwards.
It was closing time now, and there was no place to sleep in the bar. So the priest, the judge and the still-petrified Anselmo were brought out. The priest and judge were put on a bench while Anselmo was propped up behind them.
A few hours later, they awakened. It was still dark. "Hey, that was fun!" JT declared. "We should do it next time!"
"I try to avoid drinking too much," said Lorenzo.
"But, man you really live up to your reputation!"
"It's exaggerated. Look, I gotta go."
Lorenzo rose and noticed the half-finished bottle of Moscato on the bench. "You keep that," he said. "Or better yet, give it to your friend. Looks like he could use some."
JT glanced at Anselmo and turned back to Lorenzo. "Nice meeting you, padre," he said, holding out his hand.
"Nice meeting you, judge," Lorenzo said, shaking JT's hand. "I'll think about it. Drinking's not my only pastime, you know."
"Hey, how about violin lessons?"
"Sure," said the priest. He turned around and walked away.
That instant, Anslemo came to. "Uh, what happened?" he asked.
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