An Anecdotal History of Love Potion Nos. 1-8
Love Potion No. 1
Just a prototype. Never meant to be disseminated to humans. Initial dosage uncertainties resulted in extreme cravings and anti-social behavior. Everybody involved in the project's favorite lab rat, Seismic, succumbed while humping a petri dish atop a flaring Bunsen Burner. Data were collected, hypotheses discarded, Science forged on.
Love Potion No. 2
"Ah, the best of all the batches," sighs defrocked doc Herm Kepter, over ninety now and still boisterously playful. "The FDA wouldn't know a miracle drug if it made their elbows shit," Kepter continues, nostalgically and then some flipping through pages of floosie pictures in a thick album titled LP2! "Viagra Schmiagra," Kepter smirks and drools.
Love Potion No. 3
The so-called "Russian Experiment," which in alleged fact never made it off the drawing board. More than a few higher ups lost their careers over the debacle. When questioned to this day, certain old timers palsy and mumble, "heathen," when asked to comment on rumors of shock therapy, organ transplants, rabid dogs, and white slavery.
Love Potion No. 4
A tainted batch at best, in the mid-Fifties it somehow got into the hands of a bunch of girls at all-girls Marymount College in Tarrytown, New York. Supposedly worked wonders on cops (Irish and otherwise) at the New York City Saint Patrick's Day parade, but then a wayward-leaning nun got ahold of it. A Jesuit I know claims to have seen a small bottle of it in the Vatican, hidden in some back storeroom amid gallons of that Lourdes stuff. Disregard the e-Bay listings; the child-proof cap wasn't introduced until 1974.
Love Potion No. 5
Aficionados up and down the line swear 5 is the shit. Buried in Arthur Miller's obscure one-act, The Clock Pleads the Fifth, is a passing reference to the venerable No. 5. Which explains Marilyn, I believe.
Love Potion No. 6
Beggars can't be choosers. The potion my buddy Somie copped for me during his U.S. Army psychiatric testing days. It didn't work on Judith, but her sister swooned. Hence, the break-up of my life. Had a bit of a Vernor's after-kick, I recall. Spots fade over time.
Love Potion No. 7
The commercialization begins. Madame Roux's Johnnycomelately entrance into the plot. Ignore the nonsense about the Maltese girl losing her soul. Wilt Chamberlain's staggering amorous appetite has been attributed to No. 7, though the unfairly maligned Kimbiss Chutz begs to differ (see Bad Mojo Rising Journal, vol. xii, winter, 1982).
Love Potion No. 8
The John the Baptist, as it's known in Mandeville circles. Madame Roux takes over, goes the party line, and I know a guy who knows a guy who's seen the bones to prove it. Worked better on firemen than cops, it seems. Who'd a thunk it?
The Clovers-Love Potion No. 9
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