Thousand: Five Hundred Forty-Nine

thought it might be in the canapés, so I had a few of those. I had to wash them down with some of that watered wine, which, it turned out, was watered with something unwine-like all right, something unwine-like and fiery and clear, like vodka or maybe Everclear. I had a few more canapés, which were dry and tacky and cheap. Or so I thought of the first few. After the beverage chased those down I understood why the punch bowl was still deep enough to float a curly-locked moppet and why emptied Jesus brand water bottles