I’ve never actually tasted it.
That said, Old English malt liquor, henceforth to be referred to as OE so as not to confuse those familiar with rap music, has made more than one appearance in my life.
According to Wikipedia, the source I tend to pilfer from for all my “accurate” information, malt liquor, “because of its relatively high alcohol content and low price, is popular among those on a tight budget wanting to become drunk quickly.”
And this is why malt liquor has never crossed my delicate palate. I don’t abstain because I am a sophisticate, rather, I am, perhaps, the only person you’ll ever know who can easily begin slurring after a half a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer.
But what if it tastes great, I wonder. What if Wikipedia has it all wrong, and what if the appeal isn’t the alcohol content, but rather, the exquisite bouquet, the alluring aftertaste, the hint of oak.
What if?
And though I don’t typically spend my day considering the potential of OE, I did today.
Why?
Because as I looked out my now famous window to the world, I spotted our usual working girl, getting ready for a long shift. She had showered and looked clean, her hair was braided and her clothes looked new, if not stylish.
As I sat, gazing out to space in her direction, I spotted a massive glass bottle in her hand, nearly drained.
About a half-inch of yellowish liquid rolled around in the bottle’s basement. Almost gone.
But then duty called, and, presumably needing both hands for the job, she looked left and right. Seeing no cup holder, no coaster, no travel mug, the lady of the night (and day) marched across to the bark mulch filled boulevard bordering the building and planted her bottle in the dirt. Wedged in there nice and tight, perhaps hoping it would sprout in the time it took to get the job done, she hopped in the waiting truck and was off.
And, seeing how she had not returned for the yellowish liquid, and curious to see if the OE had sprouted, I marched outside.
Down I looked toward the recyclable garden, and there it sat, proud and mostly empty.
And right beside is a red kazoo.
Perhaps the homeless and the drug addicted and the downtrodden have the right idea. Perhaps we don’t need the fancy drinks, the fancy toys, the gadgets and the gizmos.
Perhaps everything you need for a really good time was right in front of you all along.
