Setting the bar high when it comes to spirits.
The people you'd see at Bic's Bar and Grill weren't the people you'd expect. The outside looked like a run-down biker bar, the inside wasn't much better, but the crowd was young and wealthy, suave and hip.
And they weren't there ironically, either. Nor was proprietor Bic Henry any kind of grill savant. He used frozen burgers, he cooked 'em too long, and he didn't clean the fryalator for months at a time. No, people came for the spirits. Not the top shelf spirits. They wanted the bottom shelf stuff. The way bottom shelf. The shelf that's six feet underground, as Bic would say.
See, Bic wasn't just a master bartender; he was also an amateur ghost hunter. At first, when he'd run out of something, he'd take the empty bottle to the local graveyard or to one of the many haunted houses in town and he'd catch the first spirits with unfinished business he could find. Then he'd take them back, shelf 'em, and serve 'em up. After a while, though, nobody wanted the normal alcohol, so he'd just pour it down the drain and keep the bottle for ghosts.
He had a list cocktails - like the Bitterness (lime juice, club soda, dash of bitters, spirit of a bitter man), The Fresh Squeezed (orange juice, spirit of the recently deceased), or The Progression (one part ghost of the unfaithful, one part ghost of a divorce lawyer, one part ghost of a lonely man, served with salted rim) - but really he could do anything. Just give him your spirit of choice - angry spirit, sad spirit, confused spirit, dangerous spirit - and he'd mix you up a surprise. There was no telling what was in it, aside from souls from beyond the grave.
The other thing about the crowd that was interesting: nearly a third of them were designated drivers. Because even without the alcohol, nobody felt comfortable enough to drive after imbibing the dead.
Wear this shirt: when you're feeling spiritual.
Don't wear this shirt: to a funeral. It might be a little too real for some people, you know?
This shirt tells the world: "When I die, I will haunt you. As long as you leave the liqueur cabinet unlocked."
We call this color: It's not my asphalt that you died!
Back to top