Rabbit Imperialism, Briar Patches Appropriated
Duck Rabbit Rabid Duck, 10% abv imperial stout
A: A thinnish black with some deep browns, not a completely oily nightmare, just
moderate BP situation. Nice lacing and stickiness on the glass, like a 2 Live Crew Video.
S: huge smells of figs, dates, roasted walnuts and melted raisin. The smoky profile is
light but huge in dark fruits. The chocolate presents some dryness, but you aren't all
sad like at the end of an episode of Teen Mom, a good dryness.
T: The taste has none of the fruits present and relies more upon a smoky element
and dark chocolate maltiness. If the maltiness were stronger it would come off
like dark chocolate milk but the watery profile pulls away from it.
No heat from the 10% abv is present.
M: Surprisingly light given the appearance and the result is a beer that isn’t
too big for several bouts, nice coating but not a huge malty overload. 1950's diners aint
got NATHAN ON THESE MALTS.
D: As far at Imperial Stouts go, the thin body makes it less memorable, less complex
but more drinkable. It serves a strange purpose in that it doesn’t exactly strive
for a One Day Crazy Release but seeks to be more of a solid everyman’s imperial stout
cum de Yeti, Founders; but it isn’t readily available so it’s drink ability basically
must carry the day and it ultimately does not.
Narrative: Michael Clempson knew exactly what he was walking into. There was an
auspicious trailer at the entry to the cul de sac, unmarked Crowne Victoria cars along
the seemingly benign residential streets. Michael trolled Yahoo chat rooms relentlessly
seeking the undercover Dateline operatives to lead to this epic event. He feigned interest
in a person posing as a 13 year old girl for the strict purpose of making his swift dark plan.
“COME ON IN SILLY GET OUT OF THE RAIN!” Michael chuckled to himself at the pathetic acting
from the operative luring him into the house. He held his head up high and awaited the ambush.
On this blustery overcast day, Perverted Justice would receive justice of their own.
“I MADE YOU SOME SWEET TEA SO JUST COME IN AND HAVE A SEAT!” the voice resonated off of
the surrounding track homes. Michael grinned and gripped the detonator in the pocket of his
cargo shorts, each stick of c4 making light abrasions against his chest as he entered the
house with his murky dark intentions.