Snoboholic
It was the second day of the Exotic Poultry Producers Association meeting held at the palace in sciegno. As always, all important issues were moved to the back burner on Friday before noon, that is half an hour after the start of the debate. Sales comparisons were replaced with alcohol, and market reports - with snacks.
“For a glass of boraquasco, slightly warmed with the left hand index and ring fingers, zezola fruit makes a perfect accompaniment,” Cezary Pytlasinski said while drinking vodka and snacking on a herring, and everybody listened with great interest. This suave, handsome man with jet-black curly hair and a slight contraction of the left eyelid (frequency between four and seven ticks a minute) was for the poultry producers a personification of good manners and a source of knowledge about high-class life style.
“Mr. Pytlasinski, and don’t you have, you know, by chance just a drop of that borax for a heiress from podunk Zapolandia?”
“Hahaha, for you, my dear Emilia, for the next meeting I’m ready to order a whole, lined in brocade box of the best drinks from all over the world,” Czarek replied, and the heiress from Zapolandia melted under the table with delight. “And that would include boraquasco. Bo-ra-qua-sco. Let’s repeat!”
“Bo-ra-qua-sco!” They all chanted enthusiastically, and a few guys even developed a tick of the left eyelid.
Only Herman Klita didn’t repeat like the others, and was, as always, very skeptical, which in turn made Czarek chronically depressed.
“And you Herman, don’t you like alcoholic drinks of the world?”
“Compranocitellopatrone. What year would you recommend?”
Compranocitellopatrone was a dark red wine produced from grapes grown on the southern slopes of the Citello mountain on a small Spanish island of Zicomprano de Ryua. Its production, according to a closely guarded method, had been done for three hundred years by the Arterian monks whose abbey was located at the top of the mountain. Each year only several hundred, hand-numbered bottles were made, and the wine was prized for its full bouquet best appreciated during siesta on the southern coast of Pilates when served with roosmoose meat and the Adriatic variety of wandering escalope; the year considered to be the best by the experts was 1989, rested in barrels made of wood from an old shed out back (marked “RQ”).
“‘89,” Czarek answered, but not to Herman, but to himself, and not then, but now, when he was pouring over a register of all-wines on the internet. Back then, his jaw had tensed, and the male half of the poultry producers association had stopped developing an eyelid tick.
In moments of defeat, Cezary Pytlasinski knew how to recover. He belonged to men, who stubbornly pursued a goal, and could dedicate themselves to the quest wholly, regardless of the obstacles. That’s how it was that time, too:
“I will show him who knows his wines! Who knows everything!” Cezary kept repeating to himself and got to work, ” I have three months.”
Three months later, during the next poultry convention, Cezary Pytlasinski showed off a new model of a DVDB player with a built-in home theatre system and a portable game room, yet fitting into a side pocket of one of the loose combat pants with big side pockets on a rack.
“For three thousand dollars. Duty free in Singapore,” Czarek boasted, and everybody stared in awe, and even Herman was impressed.
“And you went to Singapore?” A skeptic asked.
“Yep. For a golf tournament and to do a bit of shopping. You know, the wife wanted to finally buy something at Fanfany’s.”
Women’s left eyelids ticked almost instinctively, and Herman kept silent until the end of the convention.
It must be said, that unlike other snobs, Czarek didn’t exaggerate too much in his stories. In Singapore, it was really duty free, but it wasn’t he who bought it, but his brother, a Blizzair flight attendant, and his wife really did go shopping at Fanfany’s, but in Prague.
Positively motivated by his last triumph, Czarek got vigorously to work, totally not paying any attention to what his employees were doing with the poultry. He worked mainly on urban sports, which he wanted to make the main focus of his appearance at the next convention. But he didn’t neglect other issues either:
Diets for men in their prime
Contacts with people in show business
Evolution of golf on the Old Continent, with a special consideration of mountainous Chorvenia
White wines and fresh water farm raised fish
Wind-fly-fishing sports