Gemotions

"That's just…absurd," Mark mumbled, his voice tight. He watched the commercial on the television. It showcased his "Midnight Margarita," a perfectly balanced concoction of tequila, lime, and a hint of agave. It was called something else, something cheesy, and the celebrity endorsing it looked like they had never held a shaker. He wanted to throw something at the screen.

He walked into his own bar, the "Rusty Nail", and surveyed the empty tables. He could have hired a lawyer, had it pulled from stores. He could have. He walked over to the bar and started to mix a margarita for himself.

He’d make the best margarita, not just for himself, but for every customer who came into his bar. He didn't need a celebrity endorsement. His margaritas would speak for themselves. He poured the drink into a salt-rimmed glass.