Title: Hydrometics for Distillers (1/1)
Fandom/Pairing: Community; no pairing
Spoilers: Through 3x22
Rating/Warnings: G; none
Word Count: 440
Disclaimer: Community and related characters and settings are © Sony Pictures Television Inc. and Open 4 Business Productions LLC.
Description: Jeff turns to Britta for help with a personal project
Notes: Inspired by current events. Thanks to @supersarah33 and @BrittaBot311 for helping me remember what Britta ordered in "Mixology Certification."
Jeff walked into the Greendale cafetorium and made a beeline for the study group's usual table, where Britta sat leafing through a textbook. "Britta!" he said, sounding a little frantic. "I need your help."
Behind him, he heard a gravelly voice say, "Ha! Now I've heard everything." Jeff spun around and glared at the old man who'd spoken.
"Shut up, Leonard!" he said. "I know that picture of you and Peter Graves was Photoshopped." He turned back to Britta, who looked offended. "I need you to come with me."
"I'm busy," Britta said. "If I don't get a good grade on my Animal Communications midterm, I —"
"I need you to come with me," Jeff said again, "to the liquor store."
In one fluid motion. Britta slammed her book shut and stood up. "Sold. You buying?"
"It's not to buy anything —" Britta sat back down. "— it's to protest something."
"Oh! Well, in that case …" She stood up. "What've you got? Working conditions at the distillery? Child labor in the cane fields? Ooh, contamination?"
"Worse. Maker's Mark has started watering down their whiskey."
She sat back down. "Pass. Come back when you need to protest something important."
"This is important," Jeff insisted. "Look, they're ripping off the consumer." He jabbed at his phone and slid it across the table.
Britta scanned the article Jeff had pulled up. "OK, but where's the rip-off? It's not like they're trying to hide it. Besides, what do you care? You don't drink bourbon."
"It's a slippery slope, Britta. If Maker's gets away with this, who's to say the Scottish distilleries won't try the same thing. We need to nip this in the bud!"
"No dice, Barney Fife."
Jeff glared at her. "That was a terrible rhyme. And it's not like this doesn't affect you."
"It's exactly like that."
"Yeah? You think those three-olive martinis you like will taste as good with watered-down vodka?"
"Technically, those aren't martinis. No vermouth."
"That's not the —!" Jeff stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Are you coming with me or not?"
"Not. Look, you don't want me for this job anyway." She pointed in the direction of the sandwich stand. "I'm sure Shirley has a lot of experience protesting outside of liquor stores. And you know Annie's always looking for a reason to make signs and posters."
Jeff's eyes grew wide. "Holy crap! You're right!"
"Wait, I was wrong before. Now I've heard everything."
Jeff turned to glare at the old man again. "I said shut up, Leonard! I —" He paused a moment. "No, that one's probably fair."