"Whats your poison?"

Letting the dog out in the backyard today, I made the mistake of making eye contact with Santa as he passed near the fence. He was sipping something out of a thermos, presumably coffee, and he feverishly motioned for me to come talk to him. Great.

He reached over the gate and tried to unlock it to let himself in, but found it too difficult and awaited my assistance. I made no such offer as I noticed the alcohol fumes permeating from him.

"What are you drinking, Nick?" I asked.

"Oh this?", he asks offering me the thermos. "Just a little Jack and some special ingredients," as he chuckles.

I turn down the special concoction.

"Don't you drink? Or are you religionous?" Yes, he said 'religionous'.

"I drink some, but never before 10 am. Isn't it kind of early for Jack, Nick?"

"Ohhhh no! Never too early for Jack." *swigging from the thermos*

"Hmmm..." I say, glancing at the door, hoping to get away from this conversation sooner than later.

"Whats your poison, darlin'? What do you like to drink? Probably tequila, right? Because you're a little Spanish fly, right?" *winking way too many times*

I didn't know what to say to that, because my favorite drink does have tequila in it. Happy coincidence, but stereotypical nonetheless. I decided that Santa didn't need to know my drink preference, and the dog started barking to go inside, so I was off the hook.

So, inspired from 'ol St Nick himself, whats your poison? Or are you 'religionous', and therefore can't drink? lol