New Bar, Same Crap

So, there I am, tending bar one night at a different dump dive saloon (one that Harvey has paid me a big, defaced pile of filthy $1 bills NOT to mention by name), Harvey's down at the end of the bar, smashed as usual, snoring in one of the mixed-nuts bowls, when this guy from Scotland walks in! Even ol' wasted Harv picks his head up, when he heard that very noticeable Scottish accent.

The gent tells me, "An' I'll be havin' a dooble shat if yer verrah best single-malt, twelve-year-old Scotch!"

Heh! I'm thinking to myself, 'damned foreigners... always trying to be so damned SUPERIOR, I'll fix HIS little wagon!" So, I serve him up a double shot, but this stuff is my rot-gut Rye whiskey I keep behind the bar just for Harvey.

Scotsman takes a sip, grimaces, and says, "This is nae even SCOTCH, man! This is RYE, and cheap stuff at that!" Harvey's starting to really wake up at this point, 'cause he realizes I'm tapping his personal stash. He's still down there at the end of the bar, but his eyes almost uncrossed for a second...

Now, I'm thinking, 'OK, that's pretty good, but this guy ain't THAT damned good...' So, I serve him a double shot of a decent brand six-year-old double-malt Scotch. Let's see this funny-speaking bastard detect THAT one!

Scotsman takes a sip, grimaces, but not quite as fiercely as before, "Aye, man, yer gettin' CLOSER noo, but this... this is a six-year-ol', and it's been DOOBLE malted. Are ye daft? I asked for a twelve-year-old single-malt SCOTCH!"

By now, Harvey down there is transfixed, staring at the guy like he's seen the loaves get multiplied or something, and me? I'm deciding I've met my match. So, I serve the guy a double shot of my premiere brand 12 yr. single and stand back as the Scotsman sips tentatively at first and then deeper. Guy looks up at me gratefully and says, "Nae THIS, is more like it, laddie!"

I figure Harvey for losing interest by now and passing out in the beer nuts again, but NO! He's now staggering toward the Scotsman, with a shot glass in his hand! Harv says, "Here. Tashe thish!"

The Scotsman looks at Harvey oddly and takes a small sip from the proffered shot glass. Immediately, his face turns purple, he spews the liquid all over the place, and hollers, "Christ a'MIGHTY, mon! That tastes like PISS!"

Harvey weaves for a second, and finally slurs, "Yesh. I gnoww. I wash hopin' you could tell me how ol' I am."