Friday, January 23, 2009
Stewart's Ginger Beer
Ladies and gentlemen, the mighty throne of Spicy Ginger has just been usurped. Golden Cockerel is no longer the most potent of ginger drinks. Sometime last week I was at the supermarket buying the usual bullshit when I came across a bottle of Stewart's Ginger Beer. I was like this will be good or whatever because all of their shit is tasty but I did not expect to get my taste buds mouth raped by stranger. This is the spiciest mother I have ever consumed. It burned like fuck and left my girlfriend in tears (no joke).
I present to you the play by play:
I sit in my car and adjust my sweatpants.
My balls are stuck my leg.
I unstick them and feel relieved.
I pull the bottle out of the bag.
Fuck it's not a twist top.
Wait yes it is.
I open it.
My nose catches fire and I vomit on myself.
The pungent aroma of spices from the Orient invades the car.
I get a boner and rip my jogging pants.
I take a sip and my face melts off my skull.
My skeleton catches fire.
I bend down with my erect dong poking out of my ripped jogging pants.
I collect my face and slap it back on.
I take another sip.
My face melts again.
The hot spicy magma coats my insides and burns my loins.
My skin bubbles like newts in a cauldron.
I die and come back to life as a turtle.
I float down into the sewer and accidentally land in a puddle of neon green mutagen.
My body transforms.
My tiny turtle arms grow exponentially.
I am huge.
I love pizza and live with a rat.
I also like to ride my skateboard.
I only go out to the surface in a trench coat and over sized hat and somehow people don't realize that I am not human.
I meet a man who coats his body in purple robes and silver armor.
He says that my rat friend scratched his face and now he has to wear a mask.
We dance to Vanilla Ice and then I throw him off a building into a garbage truck.
My friend Casey Jones crushes his bones and then tongue fucks a reporter.
You seriously need to drink this.
It's spicy as fuck.