The following tale is true. I could not make this stuff up.

A neighbour — let’s call him Grant — told me a story of when he was young and crazy. (He says he’s no longer young.)

He and four buddies rented a cabin across the border near a popular ski hill in Vermont during Reading Week at college. The five of them piled into one lad’s rattletrap van, its roof rack festooned with skis. Amazingly, the ancient vehicle made it to their destination, albeit with much coughing and wheezing.

They enjoyed a week of wonderful skiing and, of course, wonderful apres-skiing parties.

On their last night, they resolved to throw the mother of all apres-ski parties. They concocted a wicked party brew of cheap vodka and cheaper red wine (probably some rubbing alcohol as well). But they didn’t have a punch bowl.

So Grant sallied forth to the local hardware store and bought a........

© Peterborough Examiner