Beer One of Twelve
By Ed Sullivan
Crack. Smell. Sip. Sip. I love the taste of cold beer. The brand name don’t matter, as long as it’s not that cheap, cheap shit. As long as a twelve pack costs more than eight bucks, and the beer is cold, I love the taste. Sip. Especially the first Sip of my first beer after a long hard day of sleep, Sip. That’s always the best. Sip.
As I take a seat on my favorite chair and turn on the ballgame, I chug the remainder contently. Toss the empty can in the general direction of the kitchen. I reach into the box and grab another and I know like a pitcher knows how to throw it’s all down hill from here, sometimes even to the depths of hell. Oh well.