My whole ass

Question marks floated above my head in an ethereal fashion as I wiped the dust and cringed at the rust enveloping this unlabeled bottle.

It wasn’t dastardly old, I knew, but a dead snake clogged my sump pump, and put about six inches of water in my basement last summer. As a result, residual moisture made that crown look like an aging hooker.

What beer could that be? I thought. There was a chance that it could have been a mild I bottled for the sake of an aging experiment a few years ago, but when I poured it, it was orange, with frothy, buxom head.

A taste revealed something Belgian, and a perusal through my brewing log narrowed the  possibility to a Belgian Pale Ale I brewed over a year ago. Honestly, I don’t recall bottling any of that beer, but there’s no other choice in the log. The beer was tasty, and served as a pleasant surprise, like finding a twenty dollar bill in a winter jacket after many months of storage.

Clearly, I bottled it at a time when I was doing a half-assed job of labeling beers. I’m using my whole ass now.

One Response to My whole ass

  1. Adam says:

    does it taste anything like a Flying Dog Snakedog or a Heavy Seas beer? LOL

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