June in South Carolina. The start of a special time of year. When crickets have loud night long concertos and your balls never really separate from your right inner thigh. Basically it’s hot and wet. In this weather most people are quick to grab brews that boast their abilities to “refresh” and “quench thirst.” Sometimes they add some fruit to remind you of how big a pussy you are for drinking cheap light swill. Well fuck that, let’s drink a thick ass fucking stout.
Once you go black...
Here’s a beauty, Highland Imperial Black Mocha Stout. Made one off in 2008. That means this shit doesn’t exist anymore. Which also means drinking this beer is the closest I’ll get to killing a white rhino (bucket list check off).
Sip one; okay so apparently someone on the bottle line thought they’d be a comedian and pour chocolate syrup instead of goddamn beer. And apparently after three years that shit starts to pour and carbonate like beer. Fuck, wait a minute, this is beer, otherwise I wouldn’t feel the need to search for hula hoop soft porn. It just tastes like the stuff I use to throw in milk as a kid to make it taste good. This is good shit. Fuck, why are my balls self lubing.
