The Wine

BOB: You like the wine?

Everything was perfect — the ambiance, the temperature, the breeze weaving through the air as if choreographed by a conductor. It was the flawless symphony accompanying the wine’s descent into Akeju’s veins.

AKEJU: Damn! Where did you get this?

BOB: France. Where else? It is the Victor Et Zindofa 1899.

AKEJU: Like it was made 1899?

BOB: It’s a 121-year-old vintage, perpetually pristine. Breathtaking, isn’t it?

AKEJU: Yes it is.

Apart from the transcendental wine’s flavor, what truly quickened Akeju’s heart was Bob’s haunting voice. They had been neighbors for five months, yet Akeju had never glimpsed more than Bob’s bald head as he departed in his Lamborghini F5 each morning. Where did he even work? No distance between neighbors should feel this vast, except for Bob’s wife.Oh the wife…

BOB: Do you know how its origins?

AKEJU: The Wine?

BOB: Yes. The Wine!

AKEJU: Er, I don’t know. Grapes, I think. Grapes, Sugar, Apple, Fruits? Yeah?

BOB: You are so uncreative.

Wow. Wait a minute. ‘Uncreative’. That was so fearful. Under normal circumstances, it would precede a punch to the face, knocking out every tooth. But this didn’t feel like an ordinary day. Bob articulated each word like a demon who had just feasted on five roasted infants with asparagus. Each syllable raised Akeju’s blood pressure, and his stomach felt queasy.

BOB: It’s a special kind of wine. I call it Quantum Wine. You see, back in the day, in the year of our Lord, 1893, there was a woman, Daniella. A mystic of some sorts. She was into channeling, palmistry, and all that crap until one day she was down to a morsel of bread, stage 4 cancer in her lungs, and her ten year old child. The next toll of the clock would send her to the grave. But she didn’t want to die. So she used the last hours of her life to find a cure with black magic. Now Black magic is complicated but when it comes to Life and Death, it is purely simple. All you need to avert Death is an exchange.

Akeju has not the smallest idea of what was going on, neither the story about the mystic woman or black magic. But he couldn’t move, you see. His rectum felt like it was on fire.

BOB: The exchange was to be her son’s life for her own. The means? A potion, much like the wine you’ve just consumed. Back then, it wasn’t wine, but a black elixir. It saved her life.

AKEJU: Sir…I don’t know why you are telling me all this. I..

BOB: Oh calm down. Sir Akeju. I haven’t finished the story. Why are you sweating though?

AKEJU: I feel funny. My tummy!

BOB: I think it’s the wine.

AKEJU: What?

BOB: So, Daniella! Right? After making the potion, and seeing what it could do, she tweaked it and reproduced it into something that can be taken by everyone. Well, not everyone but The chosen! She made it into a wine. Like the one you just drank!

AKEJU: What? You poisoned me?

BOB: Poison? Now that’s pedestrian.

AKEJU: What did I do to you?

BOB: You have been fucking my wife, man! And I know

Oops. He didn’t see that coming. His mind raced like the feeble feet of a six year old girl running from a gecko. How did he know? When has he known this? It was just three weeks ago when the woman appeared at his door with a basket of toasted bread, a velvet cake, a homemade mayonnaise, and…shit, a bottle of wine. One thing led to another and he found her cock in her mouth. But recollecting such escapades was difficult with his intestines seemingly soaked in poison

AKEJU: I ….I …..

BOB: You what? You are going to lie to me?

AKEJU: I am sorry. It was once. Just once.

It was more than once. Actually, it was eighteen times in three weeks

BOB: I have one question though?

AKEJU: Okay?

BOB: Did you enjoy it?

AKEJU: What?

BOB: The Sex. With her. Did you enjoy it?

AKEJU: No. I did not.

BOB: Uh! I see. So my wife wasn’t good for you?

AKEJU: I mean at the moment. Yes. In retrospect, No. Are you sure I’m not poisoned? I can barely breathe.

BOB: Oh Cmon. Relax. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. You are scared and that probably led to perspiration and palpitation. You will be fine. Just relax and take breathe deeply.

AKEJU: Thank you sir.

Akeju tried to relax and take deep breaths, but it felt like his lungs were pierced.

BOB: Or… perhaps I did poison you, and it’s nothing personal. In the next ten seconds, your body will shut down. Your lungs will fill with blood, you’ll bleed into your brain, and your heart and rectum will explode.

Akeju’s eyes widened as he buckled like a man shot in his knees, clutching his stomach and frothing at the mouth. He landed on his back as the cold fingers of death crept on him starting from his feet. Still he managed a last word. Weakly, he uttered…

AKEJU: Why?

BOB: Why? I already explained. An exchange. Don’t take it personal. Adieu!

15 minutes after

LUCY: Is he dead yet?

Lucy, Bob’s wife walked up to the corpse and kicked it on the head

BOB: Seems dead to me.

LUCY: I will get the men to carry him to the temple.

BOB: How’s Timmy?

LUCY: Cold. We have to do the exchange before dawn. He may not survive the night.

BOB: Just have a little faith. It worked for Daniella in 1893. It will work for us. Amen?

LUCY: Amen.