The boys played all day. I was quite content to stay home while they went brewery to brewery on the trolley. I dare not ask just how much beer they drank. That's not my concern. My job was to pick them up at the end of their tour, run them through the McDonald's drive-through, and get them home safely. I performed my duty, but they didn't make it easy.
After a solid eight hours of drinking, they were quite unruly from the moment they crawled into the car. They had armloads of take-home goodies from the breweries. (I can't remember which size is a growler and which is a crowler. They were smaller, so I think they were crowlers.) And they were thoroughly loaded...with stories. My first question was whether the anecdote they texted home was just an elaborate joke. I begged them to say it was a joke. It was not.
When we were college kids, and the guys graduated from nearly clear American style beers to microbrews, they came up with a theory that beer was better if it was so thick and dark you could lose your keys in a glass of it. The Mr brought this criterion up at a bar. Was just drunk enough to pull a key off of his key ring, and throw it in a beer. I don't think I could repeat the chain of events that led to the two of them chugging beers, but apparently the key went right down. Yes. Down.
I was grocery shopping with my daughter when we first heard about the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster. We predicted tomorrow's conversation as we walked to the car, imagining her explaining why she was escorting her dad to radiology. "Uh-huh. Swallowed a key." (Pause) "52."
Now we are all sprawled on T's couch, watching Mystery Men while I wait for Mr S-P's buzz to wear off. Might take longer for T. He has been sound asleep since the first 10 minutes of the movie. I'm glad I won't have his hangover tomorrow.
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