The beer shop was oddly quiet when I stepped through the door which closed behind me with a slow and screechy creak.
The rest of the city centre had been bedlam with Christmas shoppers but for whatever reason, the beer shop was silent and still.
There ee is.
Rumbled the Bear-Man's voice from the counter.
Only his eyes and wildly tousled dark hair were visible above the counter-top as if he were hiding from something.
If he was hiding he was doing a shit job of it.
Aye. It's me. Where is everybody, I thought this place would be heaving?
I peered around in the gloom of his shop just in case there were dead feet belonging to poor murdered souls sticking out from the shadowed corners.
There weren't.
Maybe they're frightened.
Said the Bear-Man in a muffled tone as he still crouched behind the counter.
Frightened? What the fuck would they have to be frightened of? You been eating lamb curry again and got those savoury farts?
I winced at the thought. I had eaten one of them once, when I had walked unwittingly into his shop and the air had been turgid with his farted arse meat.
No. I fookin haven't, thank you very much.
His muffled voice rose up in pitch as if he was offended at the thought of his farted arse meat being something to be avoided.
Well, if you haven't, there is nothing to fear.
I said confidently, stepping over to the nearest shelf and having a quick scan of his stock.
Nothing to fear, you say?
Came the Bear-Man's voice from down low.
I looked behind me and saw to my horror that he was houching along on all fours toward me like some kind of marsh-dog.
I frowned with distaste, desperately hoping that he wasn't going to stop beside me and invite me to hop on for a ride.
What you doing down there, get up?
I snapped.
Can't.
By now the Bear-Man had drawn up level with my knees.
Why the hell not?
I stepped back, lest by hanging about down there, he became aroused by my ball scent.
Because of the baby...
The Bear-Man growled in what seemed to be fear.
What fucking baby?! What the fuck are you talking about?
The Bear-Man sighed sadly and lurched to his feet.
THIS BABY!!
He yelled and threw a can, seemingly produced from nowhere, at me.
Gaaar!?!!
Only my ninjistic reflexes from my training on the slopes of Shanimon all those years ago allowed me to catch the damn thing as if I were a cat with big fat lucky paws.
What the fuck?
I stared down at the bright orange can.
Roadsmary's Baby
A rum barrell aged beer made with pumpkins.
The Bear-Man grinned.
Shat yourself, din't ya!
He laughed.
No I fucking did not.
Aye you did.
Didn't.
If ah thought you had you could have it for free
The Bear-Man tittered with an evil gleam in his eye.
I looked at him sternly.
Alright then, I shat myself. Give me the damn thing.
