"Take this mess away and bring me a shot of Old Forester," he ordered. He took a deep drag on his cigarette in a futile attempt to clear the sickly sweet taste of the liqueur from his mouth. The bartender slid a gigger in front of him, filled it to the brim. He lifted the purple concoction, smelled it, grimmaced. "Funny thing," he said. "I been behind the stick now going on ten years. I always wonder if anybody drinks this stuff or wheterh it's to make the backbar look sexy. Then, after ten years I get two calls for it--both in the same night. Funny, huh?"

1959.