Earlier this week, on one fine afternoon, the venerable Professor Beard and distinguished Dr. Haswell rang and said they were going to stop by our offices. Feeling a bit crestfallen over their loss of a mutual lover while vacationing in Italy, they refused to talk, only trudging down the halls dragging their tasseled shoes. Not knowing what to do, only knowing that alcohol can cure the heart, we brought out some choice cognacs from Camus (family-owned for five generations since 1863 from the Borderies region of France, which is known to be the most sought after and smallest region for cognac-growing) to renew their spirits.

Dr. Haswell picks up one of the small beveled glass bottles and says with raised eyebrows, “Ah, Camus. How fitting.”

Professor Beard, meanwhile, hastily cracks open the VS Elegance and takes a large swig. Within seconds, a hazed look films over his lecherous eyes. We are unsure if he is going to cry, or perhaps begin detailing, juicily, what exactly went wrong in that San Savino beach resort! Alas, Beard begins reminiscing about the long-forgotten past, his favorite: “This brings me back to bird-watching in Mt. Zion Park, with a lunch wrapped in a paisley bandana.” He smirks.  “And kisses in between sips—always. Oh June...” We give him a mild pat on the back, saying soothingly, “There, there...there will be another mono-browed, nature-bound, unshaven, bronze beauty in your life—we’re sure of it!”

“No, I don’t like that one,” Dr. Haswell mutters. He puts down the VS Elegance. Professor Beard finishes it. We hand Haswell a glass of Borderies XO. He quickly takes a sip and taps his feet, the tassels on his loafers going up and down with the motion. He indulges, “That one...That, I’d serve to a guest, late at night, expecting repayment and sexual favors.” Pauses. Reminisces. Clarifies, “Well, I’m talking about Clara, obviously,” and a look passes over his face.

Ahh, so that was the name of the tasty trollop that was entertained in bottles of red wine on midnight beach walks!

We open our mouths to artfully pry for more, but Beard heaves a heavy, obnoxiously loud sigh and chants, “Chocolate, cardamom, rose...” He has taken down a full glass of the Borderies XO. “It reminds me of afternoon chocolates in the Tuileries with Alexa.”

We are about to pin them down and get to the truth of the matter—was it Clara or Alexa? was June the name of the girl or the month? did they skip over to France as well? how far had all this debauchery gone? were they even ever in San Savino? or was it the satanic call of the Bayou? When suddenly, Beard improvises an impromptu jingle about “stirring the gossip” and “strapping it on.” His voice booms over the entire room. Haswell is suddenly cheered on as well and does an impressive jig. The two of them are utterly wasted at this point. Beard takes a sip of the XO Elegance from the bottle and roars, “This is nice, this cognac!” And without that forlorn gleam in his eye of reminiscing about kisses past, Parisian chocolates, or June girls, he gleefully exclaims, “This reminds me of a sweaty butt print left on a bus seat, but one I kind of wanted to lick!” Takes another sip. “And Virginia Slims!”

Thus, the evening devolves in dancing, and suddenly, out of nowhere, straw corona hats appear, and we wonder now, Mexico??? But to hell with it, we’ll never find out the truth of these escapades! We can only dance from the merriment of Camus cognac til we can no longer stand.

Written by Mui-Hai Chu