Once in a while, we here at ColuMn have been known to imbibe an adult beverage or two. When cmsof isn’t trying to kill us with absinthe, Sparks and I mostly enjoy a nice, cheap brewski.
Sparks prefers the high alcohol content of Miller High Life, while I’m more of a Rainier man (I still actively mourn the loss of Schmitty). On a hot summer night, you can often find Sparks and I out on the front stoop downing a couple half racks of heaven each.
We’ve had some good times. About as good as it can get for a guy and his robot dog. We’ve had a few bad times too. Tempers have flared. Batteries have been removed. Nuff said.
As good as those times are, I would be lying if I said that a price is not paid the next day. As soon as it’s possible to move without tasting bile, I ooze into the car and head for fast food. A sack of burgers on my couch watching X-Men Animated goes a long way towards easing the pain.
And then, the moment arrives. You feel a slight twitch, followed by a bubbly grumble. A second ago, you were fine, making Wolverine slashing motions with last night’s chop sticks. Now you’re in a life or death race against time.
If I happen to be home, there’s no problem. But if I get the beer shits at the ColuMn office, people get all weird, gagging and shoving sharp objects up their noses. So I use this. The best 99 cent product I ever shoplifted in order to avoid the embarrassment of buying it.