The Beer Queendom...
This is the story of The Beer Queendom, a social utopia where good beer is plentiful
and justice rules. As with all human endeavors, utopia is a hardfought goal. The Queen
is currently battling a moat dweller who she banished from The Beer Queendom for demanding
the inclusion of wheat beers, and the effects of the Outer World’s globally induced
warming trend. Preparations continue, nonetheless, for the world’s greatest beer festival.
“Beer Bitch!” The Queen snapped awake as the words drifted from the moat below. “Beer Bitch!” This was too much. She hit the Overlook button on her new Easy Throne and the seat rose and tilted forward simultaneously. She looked down and spotted the moat boat. Its dweller was standing petulantly on the deck dressed in a ragged pair of lederhosen and a tie-dye shirt. He looked half gypsy, half German — and completely out of style. Even the colors clashed, the bright tie-dye clashed with the earthen green lederhosen.
“Beer Bitch!” The moat boat neared the embarkation point on the outer shore. The moat dweller turned and spotted the Queen just she was about to lower the Easy Throne. “Hey Queenie!”
“It’s Your Highness to you! And keep the noise down!” She’d had it with the misogynistic moatdom.
“Sweaty, let’s go! We’re late again!”
“The only thing you’ll be late for is your funeral, and that’s a pity!” the Queen yelled, wondering why she bothered to waste her breath.
“Have some of this!” the moat dweller yelled, grabbing his crotch and doing his familiar, ridiculous white boy shuffle.
The Queen looked around for something to throw, settling on one of the gueuze-steamed tomatoes that lay untouched on her plate.
Her throw was hard and accurate — she hadn’t been the starting pitcher on her university baseball team for no reason — and the tomato sailed over the parapet like an arrow shot from Artemis’ bow. It struck the moat dweller on the temple, knocking his eye patch askew. That felt good.
“Wha …” The moat dweller reached up and felt strands of the tomato as red liquid dripped off him like an oozing wound. He looked up and spotted the Queen, who sat at the edge of the parapet shaking a finger at him.
“Don’t you ever call me Queenie again!”
“I’ll call you whatever I want!”
Without waiting, she threw a second tomato. It hit the moat dweller directly in the chest, knocking him back three steps where he tripped on a stray deck chair and fell on his ass.
“If I hear one more thing about you trying to run a beer festival,” the Queen yelled, “I’ll sink that sorry excuse for a boat!”
“What are you talking about!”
“I know what you’re saying! I hear the voices!”
“I’ll say what I want!” the moat dweller responded angrily.
“You’ll say what I permit you to say! I’m the decider!”
“I made you what you are!” the moat dweller yelled back. “You and your damn Queendom!”
“What are you talking about!” It was the Queen’s turn to be puzzled.
“If it wasn’t for me you’d know nothing about beer! I made you!”
“You did no such thing!” the Queen thundered back.
“You’d be drinking Coors Light if you hadn’t met me!” the moat dweller yelled.
“And you wanted me!”
“You wanted me! You wanted this!” The moat dweller grabbed his crotch again.
“I could have had you right there in the restaurant! After I put fresh ground pepper on your salad! I could have split you like an overripe melon!”
The Queen was speechless. How a miserable, filthy peasant like this could even think such thoughts was beyond her. She grabbed the last tomato off the plate and raised it above her head. The moat dweller flinched, falling on his ass again.
“Ha!” she laughed, triumphantly, at the same time wondering why the tray of tomatoes had been left out. It was a good thing, she thought, as well as the fact that they had lacked the requisite sourness to be eaten. They’d served a far better purpose.
“Your afternoon appointment is here, your highness.” The voice came from behind and she hit the Overlook button, forgetting the little man in the moat.
“You wanted to see me?”
The soft voice of Honeyman changed her mood immediately. Seeing him always calmed her. Fighting not to be sharp, she asked, “How is the water situation?”
“They’ve agreed to negotiate,” her lawyer replied.
The Queen stifled a huge sigh of relief, not wanting to let Honeyman know exactly how important this breakthrough was to her. It would be a great thing to announce peace with the Outer Realm on the opening day of Beer Carnival. Saving the world from itself wouldn’t be easy, but if anyone could do it, Honeyman could. Maybe he’d help her deal with the moat dweller.
“The Beer Carnival bands have arrived and are thirsty, your highness,” a servant said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Beer Bitch!” The voice echoed unheard from the moat below.
Next issue, Beer Carnaval.
By los Testigos de Cerveza
Copyright 2006, Rocky Mountain Brewing News