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Cheers! In Big Slick’s Oily Grip

I reached deep, deeper, deepest into the magic fridge and pulled out something I am willing to swear on a stack of pancakes that I’ve never laid eyes on before – a beer from Madison’s Ale Asylum called Big Slick.

When I first pulled the bottle out from the darkest confines of the magic fridge, I recognized the Ale Asylum bottle cap, which is the first thing I saw, but when I righted the bottle and saw the label – nope. It did not compute. I had never seen this particular style of Ale Asylum beer before. Ever. Not in my house. Not in any of the beer emporiums I patronize.

I would remember a beer that dares to call itself Big Slick.

With no idea of when or how it arrived (or even if there is more tucked away somewhere in there), I simply offer thanks because, even though I’ve never heard of Big Slick, I have a crazy feeling I’m going to like it. The name associated with a stout – produces a tingly electric charge that pleasantly runs up and down my spine.

In addition to the physical sensation, the idea of a stout-inspired slick amuses me. The Guinness Valdez! Or, in this case, the Ale Asylum Valdez.

I’d volunteer to help clean up that mess, and I’d bring my friend Darryl from Menasha, who I am reasonably certain would volunteer to be the official gull licker, especially if it would get his mug in prominent national magazines – the gull-licking do-gooder from Menasha. It’s every Menasha boy’s dream!

Or, maybe, it’s the Big Slick stout speaking. Suddenly I’m inspired to verbally hallucinate about this beer in the slickest form of expression – haiku.

Darkness calls me home.

An oily slide to Hades.

 ‘Just drink your beer, Slick!’

or

So very slick, hey!

So they all say about you.

So what, I say, Slick!

or…

Standing so stoutly,

a perfect brick of the night,

all sentiment lost.

or…

So, you are Big Slick.

What’s so great about you

Oh, now I get it!

or…

I surrender, dear.

Sometimes you make me crazy.

Thank god for Big Slick!

or (last one, I promise)…

Darkness in my mouth.

It is by design, you laugh.

And then it goes black.

 

Oh, yeah, haiku’s the slickest.

But, please, cut me off!

Stop me.

Help me!

What’s next?

Limericks?

Thanks a lot, Big Slick! You really haikued me up this time. Please release me from your oily grip.

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