A beer review to end all beer reviews

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Eddyline Crank Yanker IPA.

Not a very good beer if you want my honest opinion.

I didn't ask for your opinion but yeah, I would have to agree.

The flavor is just… off. I can't figure out what's wrong with it. It just doesn't taste right.

Almost like they brewed it with discount hops and swamp water.

That's a fair assessment. It kinda looks like piss.

But, it does have alcohol in it, so you know we're gonna have to drink all six.

Well duh. Can't be wasting alcohol now.

I guess let's just make a mental note to not buy this one again.

Hopefully that note sticks.

Knowing us it probably won't.

Yeah I guess our notes aren't always that sticky are they. Hey, grab me another, I'm empty.

Here ya go.

Thanks.

That's number three by the way. We gonna have enough to make it till sundown?

Hmm. Probably not at this rate.

Better stop at that liquor store in Johnson City just to be safe.

Yeah good call.

Just remember, don't buy Crank Yanker.

Haha. Oh crap.

What?

Just passed a cop.

Shit.

Dammit. How fast were we going?

I thought we always drove speed limit.

Yeah usually but we're already on three and it's barely been an hour. We were probably a few over.

Shit shit shit.

Goddammit he's rolling. He's gonna pull us over.

Maybe he's after someone else. Hide the beer in the console.

We're the only car headed this direction dude.

Oh boy.

Goddamn that cruiser's fast.

He on us already?

Pretty much.

Lights, of the red blue & flashing variety.

Afternoon, offisherr!

License and registration.

Here ya go. Jush curioush why you shtopped me?

I clocked you at 10 over.

Oh. I thought it wush 35 troo here.

It is. You were doing 45.

Oh. Shorry.

Son, you're slurring your words pretty bad. You been drinking?

No.

Sir please step out of the car.

Okay.

Sir you smell strongly of alcohol. Also… you are holding an open beer.

It'sh not my beer and I'm not trunk.

Actually it's very clear that you are.

Hey at leash give me credit for trinking local. I'm shupporting local businessh here.

Son this is no joking matter. You've been drinking and driving. I'm afraid I'm going to have to arrest you.

No.

What?

You heard me. I shaid no.

Sir, as an officer of the law it is my duty to arrest you for driving under the influence.

You try and kidnap me I'll fight you to the death right here right now.

[Hands on taser] Turn around and put your hands behind your back. If you resist arrest I won't hesitate to use force.

You use forsh I assure you I shall reshpond in kind.

Don't make me do this, son.

I ain't making you do shit. What happenshere in the nexsh couple minutsh or sho is 100 pershent on you.

[Draws taser] Hands behind your back!

No.

Hands behind your back, now!

No. Fuck you. And good luck trying to shplit my belt line with an X2 at thish range you idiot. If you try anything I shwear to god at leash one if not both of ush ish gonna get—

the first shot pops off but one of the probes misses and the target pulls a fixed blade and closes in. This is it it's happening now and time agrees to slow itself down to allow for all that is fated to occur in the next fifteen seconds or so. The backup somehow lands both probes but they're too close to deliver the whole dose and the target pauses but briefly before tearing them out. How slowly passes the time and how stressfully advances the action. Now enters the service weapon into the fray and everything in this unweathered realm of newfound rebellion is an eternity's worth of chaos and desperation and all that's above and beneath and around this unlikely pair right now is full-stop uncertain, and then suddenly out of nowhere strikes the ineluctable nothingness of death.

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7-18-21. Moral of the story: Don't drink Crank Yanker and drive.

Hyperlink to shome bonush shtuff: otherbrandt's tentlife blog.

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