Little Known Author-created Causes of Hangovers

This is a guest post by Caleb J Ross as part of his Stranger Will Tour for Strange blog tour. He will be guest-posting beginning with the release of his novel Stranger Will in March 2011 to the release of his second novel, I Didn’t Mean to Be Kevin and novella, As a Machine and Parts, in November 2011. If you have connections to a lit blog of any type, professional journal or personal site, please contact him. To be a groupie and follow this tour, subscribe to the Caleb J Ross blog RSS feed. Follow him on Twitter: @calebjross.com. Friend him on Facebook: Facebook.com/rosscaleb

Alcohol has historically mixed with authors the way alcohol has historically mixed with club soda and unintentional conception. As you could probably tell, that comparison was made at the tail end of an unfair amount of booze; right now I’m drinking iced red wine. It’s not bad. The chill takes the sting out of the alcohol, leaving a deliciously dulled grape juice flavor.

But this post isn’t about my bohemian brilliance. No, it’s about the unacknowledged bohemian brilliance of other authors. For every Hemingway mojito or Bukowski boilermaker there are unheralded concoctions that have fueled some of the most notorious authors of our time.

Dan Brown – MSG Saki stool sample

True to its Asian entomological roots, this drink, like the product of its famous creator, tastes fine for the duration of the swig but afterwards leaves you thirsty for something less shitty. Then, when you realize this peanut butter-textured anus puke has sold more than 40 million jiggers worldwide, it leaves you thirsty for murder. Fuck you Dan Brown (I’ll text you my apologies later in surge of drunken emotion).

Stephenie Meyer – Arbor Mist and grenadine

This drink takes the best parts of long-loved drink genres—blood-colored grenadine and the romance of a fine wine—and introduces a clever, though morbid, ritual; this drink actually requires you to vomit into the glass and drink it back. This sounds strange, and sure, no way you’d try it, right? Wrong. You will, because every single fucking person in the world will hound you about this concoction until either you regretfully drink it or lie about doing so. But don’t worry, your lies will last. It’s easy to imagine the taste of a Stephanie Meyer drink: “Sure I’ve tried that drink. It’s shitty, right?” Yes, it is.

Chuck Palahniuk – Jack and Coke-a-Cola Classic

After quenching his throat for years on a straightforward Jack and Coke recipe, Palahniuk tried a few others, ranging from the calming chamomile Lullaby bomb to the kitchen sink styled Haunted Pro-Cherry-uh highball. Then, for whatever fucked up reason, he mixed an unintelligible, vomit-inducing mess he called the Pygmy (I’m breaking the 4^th wall here; I can’t even come up with a clever spoof on this title – Pygmy is a terrible, terrible book). Finally, he settled back into his original style with a Jack and Coke Classic. Bartenders and readers rejoiced.

Stephen King – Spooky Inanimate Object Amber Lager

You will really, really want to like this drink. You’ll try it a few times, maybe faking intrigue when neighbor barflies expectantly wait to discuss the nuances of the malty texture and hoppy bitterness. You’ll nod, say, “yeah, I like the…” and fill the pause with some standard phrase about popularity being indicatively of amazing complexities of the drink, when really you want to scream, “it’s the same fucking drink this brewery has produced for years!”

James Patterson – THE JAMES PATTERSON (with vermouth)

This guy doesn’t even mix his own drinks. Instead, he shouts the name of his drink to the bartender, and then whispers any additional ingredients afterwards as if to downplay their role in the overall success of the drink. Supporters say this allows him to maintain his projected sense of importance to the drink experience while training new ingredients for their own starring roles. Critics say vermouth tastes better alone. The critics are probably right.