Rating wine by the numbers, or the game of numbers.

This page taken from 'Half-life': book one of the Deuce Luce Wine and Crime Trilogy'

“To bring home the ‘bacon’ so to speak I told the story of the man who made a pest of himself to any lawyer or judge who would listen to him. He had been at the swank affair put on once a year by his wine club. At the dinner one of the guests was in his cups and made the mistake of saying,  ‘Well sir, I’ve seen your wife and I’d give her a 71’.  Hearing that, the man became enraged, called him every name in the book and said he’d not heard the last of this.

“He asked for an opinion from his attorney as well as from any others that would listen. Did he have a case for taking the man to court and suing him for damages?  He was told by all in the legal profession not to waste his time or the court’s.  Well, he couldn’t let it go and finally one judge in the small claims court agreed to hear the case. He agreed only that after his ruling he hoped the man would give it up and stop making a nuisance of himself. Comes the day of the ‘hearing’:

‘Well sir tell the court in what way you have been damaged by the your wife’s being rated at 71 points. That is to say if 50 points is your  average score she was actually given a compliment.’ 

‘Your honor, I won’t even purchase a bottle of wine unless it’s rated at least 85 points.’

‘Sir before I let this go any further here is what the court rules. Since the defendant chose not to appear, on that technicality I rule in your favor; also court costs will be waived. Furthermore I’ve seen your wife. I’d give her a 65 tops. Case closed.’

“Now my dear I hope the length of this tale hath not stanched your creative flow. Pray, entertain me with your concupiscent couplet.”

“Dearest it’s a near nothing compared to your oration but I will happily submit it to you as I will happily submit myself to thee:

 Love's Momentary Glee

My heart's a-twitter
 My thighs a-quiver 
So do please deliver
Your manhood thither.                                       

                                           

                                                  

“Bette, Bette—your clever ribaldry is well placed. I cannot best that one for its sheer impudence.  I shall declare you the victor in this joust of words. My attack a bit long-winded. Your parry, short, to the point and dispatched with aplomb

“Nay, my most exalted one, that saucy couplet is but an Elizabethan Burma Shave sign compared to your convivial verse. Deuce, my love, you have quenched my literary thirst now please do quench this Brobdingnagian fire that burns twixt my thighs. Pray, darling, please mount me anew and let us journey together to arrive at Venus’s portal in tandem.”

Deuce thought how do you top that? The bard would rise out of his grave a jealous suitor.