Enough is enough, now…
So I tell everyone that the best beer in the known universe is Abbey, brewed by the fine folk at the New Belgium Brewery in Fort Collins, Colorado. Now I go to the only store in a 95-mile radius of Sioux City that carries the beer, AND THEY’RE SOLD OUT. (Well, I didn’t actually go myself. My wife, Dagmar, was running errands and volunteered to pick some up for me, and some for my mother-in-law, too, who tried it and liked it.)
“The man here tells me he’s never seen them run out of Abbey,” she told me on the phone. “They’ve been selling a lot of it lately, I guess. I found one lonely bottle of Abbey way in the back hiding behind a Red Stripe, so I bought that for you…”
I have one bottle in the fridge. My wife is bringing one bottle to me soon. Lemme see… One and one, that’s… Well, that’s two. Two bottles of bliss. (As a friend of mine once said, “Drinking a good beer is like having angels pee on your tongue.” I’ve never really understood that, but it sounds profound. It has an Irish ring to it, somehow.) I have to admit, I’m a little scared. What if I have to break down and drink one of those Miller Lite things that have been lurking in the back of the fridge, terrorizing the tomatoes and teaching my Tobasco sauce bad habits? Now that my palate has been blessed by the Abbey, there’s no turning back.
My wife left our phone number at the Booze-O-Rama. The next six-pack is MINE darn it.
In other news…
U.S. Secretary of Defense Ronald Dumsfeld is being a stubborn old coot and there are rumors of a nuclear war with Iran. All of which pales next to my impending lack of quality beer.