"Eighty Proof and the Ad Council" by Bill Baber in Spelk
The first shot of eighty proof eased down the track of his throat, arriving in his gut like a train pulling into the warmth of a lighted station on a cold winter night. Moments later, he lifted the second to his lips as if it were a fly fisherman’s back cast. With a sudden snap of his wrist, the liquid line began a languid journey that ended with gentle ripples in the serenity of a clear mountain stream. Read story here.