What's in the Bottle?

by P. R. R.

minutes and then opened the generic one. “Well I guess I’m drinking then.” He leaned himself against the car, taking slow sips, when it struck him in the face. A monstrous overlit neon sign on a small building on the other side of the street that said “Bottlette sold here”. His temper was rising, but he took a few more sips and he quickly calmed down. He started thinking about his childhood, when things were much simpler. A world free of bullshit salesmen. A world in which every product served a purpose, a world in which the things you bought actually worked, a world in which you got good value for your money. He though about his best friend and how they wanted to start a business, for the first time when they were still kids. They bought Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT) jelly candy shaped in the form of the famous superhero characters. They ate the jelly and then poured plaster into the plastic packaging. Voila! They had TMNT action figures – ten cents each. All the kids in elementary school went crazy and they sold like ice cream in August. They sold so many they could afford to buy a couple of tapes from their favorite musicians. Were they also a part of this new breed of bullshit salesmen? When they were older they tried something more serious: electronic candles. But not just any old e-candles. They weren’t like most candles that only blinked. They really looked like real candles. Dave was programming the microcontrollers, while his friend took care of the rest. But people didn’t want fancy, nice looking, expensive candles. They wanted cheap stuff. After this disappointing experience Dave didn’t want to continue and his best friend started selling food supplements – a lot less effort for a lot more money.

  Dave decided to pay a visit to the strawberry man. He opened the glove compartment and took out a small black box. He wanted to cross the street but everyone was speeding past him. The speed limit was 30 but nobody was going less than 40. One driver started flashing his lights – he wanted Dave to get out of his way. Apparently he didn’t agree to the fact that pedestrians can also use the street. Finally Dave got across. He walked into the strawberry man’s shop.

  Dave wanted to start talking to the guy in a calm, friendly voice, but then he though: “What the fuck. I’m not going to waste my time and his time. At the end everyone is going to end up shouting and swearing anyway.” “What in the world are you doing here”, asked Dave. The salesman was surprised: “Good afternoon. I’m sorry sir, but I didn’t understand the question.” “OK, I’m sorry for being rude. Let me introduce myself. My name is Dave and…what the fuck are you selling here?” “Sir, you don’t have to be rude. As you can see, we are selling bottles.” “I can see that you dumb piece of shit. What kind of bottles?” “These are special kind of bottles. They improve the quality of water.” “Why don’t you humor me and tell me how can these bottles improve the quality of water.”, asked Dave. “Well it’s a rather complicated procedure and the science behind is very sophisticated.” “So tell me about the science then.” ”Well, actually, at the moment, no physical theory exists that explains how the quality of water is improved.”, said the salesman. “So there is no physical theory that explains how the bottle improves the quality of water and yet you sell these bottles?” The salesman replied: “Yes sir, you know… It’s like the mobile phone. The people who use it don’t know how it works… but it works.” Dave was getting really agitated. Since he was a scientist himself he couldn’t just let it go: “You ignorant piece of shit. What does that have to do with anything? Of course you don’t have to know how the mobile phone works. But guess what fuck face, the manufacturer has to know how to make a mobile phone. Do you agree?” “Ahmmm, yes of course.” “So tell me Mr. Strawberry man. How do you make the bottles?”, asked Dave. “Ehmm… We write a program into the silicon that is in the glass bottle.” “Yes, I know that there is silicon in the glass bottle. Every high school kid knows that. What kind of a program? What does the program do?” “Well mister, of course you will understand that I cannot reveal the details. The patent for our product is still pending. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir. Otherwise I will be forced to call security.” Dave opened his small black box and took out an old 9 mm Beretta from the Second World War. The salesman froze in his chair: “Mister, please. I’m just a salesman here.” Dave slowly started loading rounds into the magazine: “So tell me Mr. Strawberry man. What kind of a program do you write into the silicon in the bottle?” “Please mister, we just import the bottles. They come from China.” “Well, I though as much.”, said Dave. He inserted the magazine into the gun, pointed it towards the salesman and said: “You are a little, ignorant, sleazy, selfish motherfucker. You import shit and then you sell it for ten times more. And your salary is what? Two hundred thousand a year? More? Is that your SUV in front of the store? It’s a fucking tank. Don’t you know this is Europe you dumb head? You can’t even park this thing anywhere. Anyway, you take money from people who don’t have anything and you make them even more miserable. And your business was quoted in the newspaper as the number one new business in town?” “Please mister, I’m just trying to survive like everybody else.” “No, not like everybody else. You are trying to survive by fucking everybody else. Don’t say anything or I’ll pull the trigger.” The salesman was shaking: “OK, OK.” “I said don’t say anything. Now I have to shoot you, you brainless idiot.” Dave pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. After a few seconds, there was a yellow puddle on the floor right next to the salesman’s feet. He fell out of his chair and crawled under the table.

  The story with Dave’s gun was the following. He got it from his dad who got it from his dad. Dave’s granddad was a guerrilla fighter during WWII somewhere in Eastern Europe. He joined the army when he was 17. During an attack on an Italian outpost he was injured when a grenade exploded nearby. They took him to a hidden hospital somewhere deep into the forest, where he stayed for a month and eventually recovered. Back then, they didn’t do complicated surgery, especially not in the guerrilla “hospitals”, so a lot of the grenade pieces remained in his body for the rest of his life. He got the Beretta for his bravery from an officer who visited the hospital. He kept it after the war and later gave it to his son. His son, of course, didn’t just keep it in the closet. From time to time he went into the forest to shoot some rounds. Because the ammunition was more than 50 years old, on average only one out of three rounds would go off.

  Dave pulled the trigger again and again nothing happened. He looked around the shop and saw one half-filled “Bottlette” on a small table in the corner. “Should I?”, he asked himself. “Well, at least I have to give this guy a chance, right?” He picked it up and emptied it. “That was one hell of a bottle of water!” He walked out of the store and went back to his car. For some reason all traffic stopped while he was crossing the street. When he came to the car he put the gun back into the glove compartment.

  The next day there were two guys tearing down the “Bottlette sold here” sign and putting up a sign that said “Probably the finest strawberries in the world sold here.” It was 8 a.m. and it was a beautiful and quiet Saturday morning. The silence was broken by a police siren. Two officers stepped out of a car and knocked on the neighbor’s door. Apparently someone reported domestic violence. Later on that day Dave and Aline went hiking. “So I was thinking, Aline. How would you feel about opening up a business? Would be such a waste if they would get rid of all Bottlettes when we could…” “You’re kidding, right?”

  After six months the baby was born. Dave spent less time thinking about milk cartons and was more concentrated on his daughter. They spent most of their weekends outdoors playing with their two dogs. Dave didn’t watch TV anymore... Well except on rainy days. He decided not to get angry even during commercials, especially when his daughter was around. One rainy Sunday afternoon he turned on the TV. “… and if you order our baby stroller in the next half an hour…”. “Motherfuckers!” Dave grabbed the remote, threw it into the screen and smashed it. “I guess no more TV from now on. What do you think, Amy?”

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  I hope you enjoy
ed reading this short story!