�We�ve none left, there is no more.�
Whipple�s reply:
�Indeed.�
Tailstock�s further reply:
�Indeed, indeed.�
And so they stared, watching their bottle, hoping for more. None came.
�What further can we do?� wailed Whipple, despairing of his lot. �The cellar is empty, and the butler isn�t in.�
�Despair.� Replied Tailstock.
�Gloom.� Further replied Crockett.
They remained once more, locked in their bitter trance, unable to speak or move from the terror gripping them all.
�This happened once when I was a child. Father ran out of wine halfway through an evening. I was there, watching these great men, his two great friends. I was five, yet even the lustre of youth failed to protect me from what happened then.� Tailstock shook his head, pained at the recollection; �I vowed that day never to let it happen to me, and look where I stand now. A ruin shattered before the alter of sobriety, forced to face this harsh world without my defence, my basic.�
Whipple patted him on the shoulder and shuddered at the thought that they had been brought so low.
�Perhaps we could call the butler back in?� asked Crockett, addled through denial, clutching at false hopes.
�Fool, the butler has no phone. He cannot be reached. We must face this alone.� Replied Tailstock. �We are men of standing, we can endure. But we must first devise a strategy, a formulation to get us through this trial.�
Silence resumed, the thoughts having been said.
�Where did the butler get the bottles from?� asked Crockett, once more clutching,
�The cellar, from what I�ve seen.� Replied Whipple, �but there is nothing for us there, that we have known for time now.�
�Then from where does the cellar acquire its bottles? Surely it cannot just obtain them from nowhere? We need a source.� Reasoned Crockett.
Thoughts pervaded, a quiet storm of cogitation gripped them all, burning their neurons to their very limits. Tailstock broke first:
�I have it, my men, I have an innovation, a stratagem.�
Whipple perspired in anticipation; Crockett closed eyes and drew breath.
�We shall find a shop, we shall buy some more ourselves, and that we shall consume.�
The words were out, the plan was done, and the men knew their course. Doors were opened, deeds were done, and hence they returned, emblazoned with bottle.
Upon opening, they savoured aromas, sipped of sips, proclaimed:
��Tis like chocolate, dark.� Whipple,
�A dew of life upon us.� Tailstock, and
�Relief, my joy.� Crockett.
And so they remained, long through the night, �til dawn caught them and light burnt their eyes. Thereupon they slept, better to make ready for the next.