Grabbing another bottle, I began to pour a burgundy liquid into a deep glass. A yell, and I looked up, dazed. When I gazed back down, I saw that the wine has started to cascade from my glass onto a newly created pool at my feet. Slowly realizing this, I pointed the bottle up, and clumsily placed it onto a side table. Though I heard the dull thud of it falling down and the glug of the wine as it fell in large rivers down the side, I ignored this, instead focusing on the slurred singing of those in front of me, all of them spilling wine down their fronts.

Two Montresors walked along my side, and I put my hand out to stop one of them.

The two collided together to become one, smiling, saying “My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today.” Blinking, I tried to focus on the swaying Montresor, until I realized that he had said, “But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts.”

Excited, since I had already drunk or spilled all of my wine, I cried “How? Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!” He continued, but I ignored anything that was not him saying I could have his Amontillado. I repeated “Amontillado!” over and over, only caring about it.

“As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchesi. If anyone has a critical turn it is he. He will tell me-”

“Luchesi cannot tell Amontillado from sherry.” I said, annoyed.

“And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.” Luchesi, as good as me! Impossible!

“Come, let us go.”

“Whither?”

“To your vaults.” He began to impose, but I said only,“I have no engagement --come.” I grabbed his arm, and guided him to his palazzo.

Though I attempted to carefully toe down the steps, I instead ended up missing every other step, surprising myself when I ended up at the bottom of the steps unharmed, in Montresor’s vaults. After lifting two torches out of their sconces, he handed one to me. Jerking his head in a gesture to keep going, I complied, asking once more about the pipe. He again told me it was further down, and picked off a bottle from the rows. I put it to my lips and drank heavily. Warmth spread through my chest, but then I focused once more on what was important. The Amontillado.

My feet stuck to the floor, plucking as we walked. The walls were covered with rows upon rows of peeking necks, some white niter, lustrous from the orange flame light, sometimes managing to be seen from its hiding place. The air, heavy and moist, enhanced my cough to the point where I had to stop, the bells on my hat jingling. After this coughing fit, he handed me another bottle to swallow. Amontillado. The Amontillado. It was what I truly wanted.

As if my thoughts had been translated right to Montresor, he led me into a crypt, bones lined perfectly upon each other. Assuming the Amontillado was down here, I went ahead of him. Though, the torch was no longer bright enough to be a good source of light, I could tell that the crypt path had ended. Confused, I turned to ask, and then a chain and padlock were locked around my waist.

“The Amontillado!” I said, still not being able to think past that.

“True,” Montresor replied, “The Amontillado.”

He began to displace the bones, revealing stone and mortar. Moaning, I tried to pull the chain, hoping that I could rip it out of the wall. The pull of the chain said otherwise.
The wall was building up. Already over halfway built, I suddenly saw light emitting from the top, revealing Montresor’s face, shimmering with sweat. I screamed, as loud as I could, hoping I could get him to let me out. But he only cried back, louder than I. So I quieted.
What am I to do, I thought as he threw in his torch and laid in the last brick. Hyperventilating, in an attempt to get the last bit of air out, so I could continue to use it, I thought I can’t breath, I can’t breath, If only I had that glass, that overflowing glass...