A Cute Margarita

I went for drinks after work one day in Canada. A coworker, knowing my extensive time in Mexico,urged me to have the Margarita at the place saying, “They’re so cute.”

I responded that one never ought to think of a Margarita as being cute. “One should respect a Margarita and perhaps fear it a bit.” I ordered a Manhattan.

Someone else ordered a Margarita. It came as a glass of some liquid that was glow-in-the-dark green, complete with a green umbrella.

I felt like I had dodged a bullet. Maybe a rubber bullet, but a bullet nevertheless.