Just like everyone else, I was told never to drink Southern Tier beers from a New Holland glass. It’s Blasphemy. It’s never done. But I had to to win Lake Shore Fog - I mean, it’s Hazy AND juicy. It’s a no- brainer. The bartender refused to pour it. He hid in the bathroom. We recruited a regular, a roller derby girl named Bobo, to do the pour. “I don’t give a fuck,” she said, and, “whatever gets you off.” Just like everyone else, I was told never to dismiss a bartender’s concerns, and we shouldn’t have this time. After the pour (and we’ve all seen this a hundred times) there was a puff of smoke, a beer demon appeared - just your average beer demon; he looked like an unpeeled potato with an underbite and a bowl cut. He applied standard demon rules: Beat him and win the beer, lose and lose your soul. Long story short, Bobo knocked him out. One punch. Bobo never lost a roller derby and rumor had it she used to bully grizzly bears. They said she killed a narwhal with a head but. I believe it, and, to be fair, Bobo actually won the Lake Shore Fog, but she let me drink it. She winked at me when I took my first gulp. I’m worried how this may turn out.














