I shoved through the doors of the beer shop as if they were the beef curtains of an elderly aunt.
Good afternoon!
I boomed at the Bear-Man who leapt a little in fright at my rambunctious swagger.
Ey op, lad.
He muttered uncertainly. As if fearful that I was come to ask if a certain glass slipper would fit his 'dainty' foot.
I cupped a hand to my mouth and spoke in a low conspiratorial voice.
I'm looking for something a bit different today. Something... Unusual?...
The Bear-Man shuffled from foot to foot.
Aye, unusual is it?
He stroked his beard and eyed me cautiously as if worried that I might produce a shoehorn and attempt to insert myself into his one-eyed Jeffrey.
Yes. I'm looking for something... Canadian.
It was true, the inestimable had set me a challenge. Buy a Canadian beer and drink it or something like that.
I knew at once that Canadian beer must be awful and horrid and this must be a test similar to the cinnamon challenge.
Canadian? Like, Canadian beer? Why?
Asked the Bear-Man his face a wrinkled and bearded mass of confusion.
Why? Um, a Canadian chap I know asked me to try one and I said...
Is she blonde?
Interrupted the Bear-Man.
I made a garrumphing noise. My forehead furrowing down over my eyes like soggy wholemeal bread.
She!? She is not a she. She is a he.
I stated with a small measure of indignation.
Bear-Man nodded then slowly winked at me.
Is she now? Eh! Eh?
I decided to reel the conversation back on track, I mean for fuck sake, my lunch was only an hour.
So. Canadian beers, you got any?
Bear-Man made a ruminating noise which sounded like that vibratory lip thing that Italian men do to their ladies kazoos.
I had one. Sold out.
He appraised his shelves with a practiced eye.
Was popular, could get some back in, if you like?
He grunted amenably.
Aye, if you would that would be nice.
I replied, trying my best to maintain my swagger despite feeling a bit let down.
The Bear-Man leant forward.
So, your girlfriend. This Canadian, would she like a Milkshake IPA?
He magicked a can of something slightly awful looking from beneath the counter.
I looked at it and then him.
She's not my... Oh fuck it, aye, I am sure she would.