"It actually tastes pretty good. I thought it would have a stinky foot odor, but it doesn’t." Bobbobovic looked at Richard and recommended, "Richard, do you want to try it?"
At that moment, Richard was scooping a spoonful of mushroom soup and putting it in his mouth, swallowing it in one gulp. He looked at Bobbobovic, shook his head, and declined with a meaningful refusal.
"Suit yourself then." Bobbobovic took another sip, suddenly thought of something, turned to the tavern owner who hadn’t yet left the door, and asked curiously, "By the way, owner, I wanted to ask you, why is this drink called Toe Rum?
Compared to regular rum, it’s very refreshing, not unpleasant, and there’s nothing odd about a stinky foot smell, so why is it called Toe Rum?"
"Uh..." The tavern owner, ready to leave, stopped in his tracks, turned around stiffly, and under Bobbobovic’s curious gaze, gave an awkward smile and tried to respond in a gentle, non-offensive tone, "Sir, because it’s made with toes."
"What?" Bobbobovic blinked as if he hadn’t understood and asked again. But he quickly stopped the cup heading towards his mouth in mid-air.
"Well..." Bracing himself, the tavern owner replied, "Sir, this type of drink is made by soaking toes, hence the name Toe Rum."
"Toes? Toes!" Bobbobovic’s eyes widened, and a faint retching sound came from deep in his throat. His expression twisted, yet still wanting to hold on, he asked, "They’re animal toes, right? Tiger’s? Lion’s?"
"No, sir, they’re human toes," the tavern owner said.
"I don’t believe it!" Blood vessels at Bobbobovic’s temples bulged slightly.
"Sir, the toe is at the bottom of your glass. If you drink it all, you’ll see it," the tavern owner explained.
He didn’t even need to drink it all. A glance into the glass showed a shadow at the bottom. With a slight focus of his eyesight, he could clearly see a wrinkled, dark red toe lying quietly at the glass’s bottom.
After seeing it, the retching sound from Bobbobovic’s throat became more distinct, his eyes fixed on the tavern owner, fists clenching and unclenching.
"Why use human toes for the drink? Don’t you know a person has just ten toes in total! If it takes a toe per drink, how many toes does your tavern need in a day? Is this a shady place, killing people for toes?!" Bobbobovic shouted.
With a hint of grievance, the tavern owner quickly explained, "Sir, this really isn’t a shady place. The toes aren’t taken by murder. They’re cut off when someone gets frostbitten by a physician. As you can feel, the climate here is damp. Walking for too long in the winter without keeping warm might cause frostbite on toes.
Some weren’t frostbitten but were cut off on purpose by a physician while treating certain illnesses like bloating, diarrhea, dizziness, nausea, infertility, or excessive libido.
In any case, the sources of toes are quite legitimate, though the quantity is indeed limited. That’s why there’s only one toe in a barrel of rum—the toes are reused.
"Hold on, did you say reused?" Bobbobovic realized he couldn’t use an expression to adequately convey his current feelings. In fact, he found himself unsure of what expression to use in this situation.
Gritting his teeth, Bobbobovic mustered his last bit of courage, looked at the tavern owner, and asked, "Then tell me, how long has the toe in my glass been used?"
"The toe in your glass belonged to Old Jimu from my town. His son just passed away yesterday," the tavern owner said euphemistically, "So, not that long, less than forty years."
Bobbobovic: "..." thought he had just drunk an old man’s thirty-plus-year-old foot soak water.
Silence, a long, prolonged silence.
After a while, Bobbobovic looked at the tavern owner and seriously asked a question, "Why... didn’t you tell me there was a toe in the drink before I drank it?"
"I wanted to say it, but you interrupted me, sir, so..."
Bobbobovic suddenly slapped his hand—onto his face.
His other hand waved weakly, in a voice barely audible, "Alright, I’ve finished asking my questions, you can go."
"Yes, sir." The tavern owner dared not say another word, bowed his head, and left quickly. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝘯𝘦𝘵
Richard beside him looked calm, glanced at Bobbobovic, and continued eating.
Bobbobovic raised his head, looked at Richard, and called out rather indignantly, "Hey, can’t you comfort me a bit? I drank Toe Rum!"
"Oh, don’t waste it then, drink it all," Richard said, "By the way, I’ve heard that after finishing the drink, sucking on the toe and putting it back in the barrel is the correct drinking method."
"You!" Bobbobovic practically fumed, yelling, "That’s too much! If our roles were reversed and you drank Toe Rum, I would definitely comfort you."
"But I wouldn’t drink it," Richard replied.
"What do you mean? Did you already know this rum was made with toes?" Bobbobovic asked.
Richard nodded, "Sort of." He wasn’t lying; he did know, because there was similar rum in the Maple Country on Earth.
After hearing this, Bobbobovic widened his eyes, looked at Richard, and almost stopped breathing, his tongue swelling, "Wait... wait, you truly knew? So that’s why you refused the taste earlier?"
"The first reason I refused was that I didn’t want to drink alcohol, to avoid affecting my thinking," Richard said earnestly, "And the toe was the second reason."
"Then why didn’t you tell me?" Bobbobovic exclaimed a bit irritably.
"Because you took the initiative to want to drink it. I thought you knew," Richard gave Bobbobovic a look and said seriously, "Plus, when you took the first sip, you seemed very satisfied. I thought, since you were so satisfied, whether or not there was a toe shouldn’t matter to you. So why tell you?"
"..." Bobbobovic looked at Richard, speechless, lowered his head, clenching his fists, only to hate himself for not being a pufferfish, feeling more than just furious; he was about to explode.
He just drank an old man’s thirty-plus-year-old foot soak water, and he was the only one who didn’t know!
Damn it, how in this world could there be such a toe-soaked drink?
This is way too freakish, isn’t it?!
He simply isn’t creepy enough, and doesn’t fit in with this world.
But... coming back to it, considering the toe—and toe—even as wash water... pfft, the taste of the drink is actually not bad.