Acquiring Dragon Berry
Although you can find a bottle of Dragon Berry at any of your fine mega marts, discount booze emporiums, bulk discount club stores or low-quality/high-profit shopping centers, our bottle was recovered from the depths of the bottom shelf of my kitchen cabinet... in the very back... next to the empty pickle jar I saved incase I decided to make pickles and the jar of Indian curry paste that never had seemed to be the right time to use. It has hidden in its cave for about a year or two, resting. The leviathan of the deep was waiting for the perfect time to lash out upon the country side... and now was just that time. I originally scored its honor in a viscous battle of wits and cunning, champions destroyed and maidens saved, at the local monthly pub quiz. Amazingly, this trophy was not held to the highest esteem of the first place earnings, but mysteriously relegated to one of the lower rungs in which my band of merry men seemed to have found themselves (curses to you table 6). Although one would expect a bitter argument to break out between which team member would be granted rights to call upon this fair maiden as a "gentleman caller", I was curiously thrown the bottle and declared its owner. Being the gentleman I am, I refused and demanded a lesser fortunate companion be allowed to know such a prize in their life, but honor was strong among my company and no matter how hard I tried, I luckily seemed to be left with the vessel sitting before me. The Fates had clearly chosen me to champion this beast. Although a weathered rum adventurer might expect to pay as much as $30 to $40 for a fine aged rum, at BevMo you can pickup this 750 mL wyrm for a mere $10.99 (if you are a member of their secret drinking society and possess their club card). My blessed prize was of an earlier generation of label and product and stood tall at the industry standard 1L bottle.
The Dragon Berry Armor
Elegance abounds in this shimmering crypt that rests the beast. An elegant, perhaps slightly even sparse, sleek to the bottle assaults the eye with beauty and elegance. I'm having a hard time finding other words than 'elegant.' Monolithic, perhaps. Singular. Plain. This level of elegance can only come about from the finer forges of what used to be Cuba, then Puerto Rico, birthplace of fine Caribbean rums. Who would have known that Jacksonville, Florida continues this arcane legacy and is where this titan was bottled, but the chalice itself could have been forged in the mysterious desserts of Mexico or far off in the exotic Orient of mainland China. This is one mystery the dragon holds tight to its bejeweled breast plate, awaiting a far bolder dragon slayer than I. The mystery continues as the label throws the party along many winding passages before resting upon its lair. "Bacardi Dragon Berry" shines boldly on its crest, yet below states, "Strawberry infused with Dragonfruit," continuing on to "Strawberry Rum," below the stylized logo of what I can only imagine is a dragon fruit (though the scorpion-like pinchers on the sides throw me for a loop and create the look more akin to Cthulhu) and then finally resting upon the phrase, "Bacardi Rum with natural flavors." A complicated trail to follow as we descend down into the depths of this bottle, but as we will soon learn, symbolically fortuitous. Upon breaking the seal of the high quality aluminum looking plastic cap, we find a thoughtful gate designed by the wizards that first imprisoned the beast: a non-drip plastic lip forged on the shimmering glass ocean that is the bottle. Not a drop shall escape the side of this bottle as, clearly, the wizards wanted every last morsel to be savored... and yet every last villager to know and fear the power and might of this flying serpent.
The Dragon's Pheromones
Despite standing at arms length, I was overcome by the vivacious scent escaping from the bottle. One could hardly imagine a sight other than neon red vapor twisting and penetrating the air in a dance of agressive passion. So boldly did the aroma pierce my nose, like a Hentai animation of a tentacled demon, that I almost lost my footing. It was only by shear luck and the grace of God that I maintained my stature, a feat slowly developed from intense adventuring in the rum filled caverns of yore. These demonic vapors play tricks on men's minds as I was instantly thrust into a cloudy vision of childhood. No longer was I the rough and bold explorer, weathered and grizzly warrior, but a wee lad of eight or nine sitting in a park chewing upon a mouthful of Strawberry Bubblicious bubble gum. The cunning beast had confused my mind with its illusions and phantoms. It stripped me from my battle suit and forced me to drop my weapons. Naked, I slowly walked forward in this dream-like daze. It was time to finally meet the Dragon. I paused. Surely, there is another aroma I can sense. Leaning deeper and pouring the perfectly clear silvery fluid into my chalice, I strained to discover. I took a long and deep inhale and found my head rumbling through the many and varied scents one might find in a fine rum. Raisins, chocolate, tabacco, caramel, the remnants of the grassy fields in which the sugar cane came from, these were the properties of rum. My years of experience was pushed to its limits as I uncovered all of the many layers of aromas:
- Strawberry Bubblicious
- Rubbing Alcohol
This bold painting of flavors and scents continued my illusion. I'm at the park... and I trip. A shot of pain erupts from my knee as blood flows. Good God, the rivers of blood drain the life from my body! My mother comes to me and shows me it is but a flesh wound, a mere scratch. Small black granules of dirt and asphalt pepper my wound. My mother takes a brown plastic bottle and tips a hint of clear fluid on a cotton ball. She applies the pillow of cotton candy and the cooling sensation eases my fears. But then... fire ignites in her eyes and a piercing cackle stains my ears. Pain! Stinging pain the likes of which I was not told about engulfs my knee, calf, shin and upper thigh. My legs bursts into flames! Foul harpie, you have forsaken me! "Shh... it'll be over soon..." her siren voice lulls me back to skeptical ease. I wait. I wait and plot my revenge.
The Dragon strikes, but softly. It teases me with its might. There is but one thing to do: I must enter the cauldron and face my foe like a man.
The Taste of Dragon Berry
With the illusion of childhood fancy and fallen turmoil still floating in my mind, I take a sip of the Dragon Berry rum straight, as God intended.
As with any traumatic experience, one is left with feelings not details. Faint wisps of thoughts and impressions, ideas and emptiness. Complete details are removed from the mind as it would overpower the consciousness and render the victim inert. What remains in my mind is the following. The conflict with the Dragon left me stunned. Take heed and walk your path lightly if you should find yourself in his domain:
The memory of childhood is replaced by an estranged uncle who now takes guardianship over me. He forces me to clean the circus animals' cages to earn my daily ration of porridge. Whips are my teacher as I struggle to keep my bearings in this dark world that has been thrust upon me. My childhood and innocence are no more. The circus music echos as clowns vomit upon my feet. Laughter and pain is all I know now. Laughter from above and the pain that surges beneath.
The strawberry induced childhood was merely an illusion that disappeared as soon as the Dragon Berry touched my lips. A tease of sweet and sour flirts about, but quickly dashes away into the darkness as a grotesque peppery dirt flavor of hard labor and unfair living conditions towers above. Heat from tears of pain and the screams of childhood lost rise up on your tongue. The pepper and muddy dirt taste over powers all other factors as an atomic cloud of oily disgust expands and rises. I swallow and feel a burn of the fission energy rising, but the expansion is not ceasing. I clamor to prevent this demonic Dragon from escaping into my nasal passages, rising up it attempts to storm out any cavernous chink it can find. I gasp to draw in the pure air and surpress this beast, but a second attack has begun. It not only has mastery of visions and the illusionary arts, but commands a legion of warriors dragged from the depths of hell. The phlegm in my mouth builds like a force about to storm the countryside. My faculties compromised, I clear my throat and attempt to eliminate this most unfortunate effect down my throat. Stained by the dreams lost, I can only utter the simple words, "Oh God." What might be fruit flavors, of chemical combinations I do not understand, still circle me like a typhoon. There must be an escape. But as soon as the shock arose, so too does it subside. The muddy tsunami filth recedes and I am left with a ruined wasteland. Scorched earth remains from this Dragon, a bitter taste lingering and not wanting to leave. Faint and scattered embers remain. Burnt dreams. Cast away treasures. The promise of found gold lays before me like the lie of "natural flavors" on the label... a cruel sceme to enslave, but ultimately hollow. I suppose dirt is a natural flavor, along with sadness and carnival torment the likes of which I can only be reminded of in the story, Something Wicked This Way Comes.
At least it will be lost among the drinks that could be mixed with it. At least there is one glimmering hope of return to illusionary fantasy as the spirits embrace you in a drunken stupor. At least it's strong enough and of high enough proof to take you back into a fantasy of fun and merriment.
Only 35% alcohol by volume?!?!
OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE!
