Episode 9: The Hunting Trip

It’s a sunny, crisp morning out in the woods and everyone is passed out around the campfire.  Ewan and The Deer are the first to wake up.  They slowly sit up, stretch, rub their eyes, and look around at each other and everyone else still sleeping.  The sun is just starting to peek over the trees and so they can still see their breath in the cool, morning air.

Ewan and The Deer throw some more wood on the fire and start preparing their usual breakfast of kegs and eggs.  They finish their second helping and are about to load up their plates with thirds when the quiet calm of the morning is broken by a sudden ruckus.

A half naked man covered in mud bursts through the tree line, “RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!  GOOOOOOOOOO!!!  GET TO DA CHOPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” he yells at the top of his lungs in a thick, Austrian accent as he runs by the campfire at full speed, disappearing back into the tree line.

Ewan, quite startled, looks at The Deer and just blinks for a moment while he takes in what he just saw.  "Is that..." he starts to ask The Deer.

"Yep, that's Arnold Schwarzenegger," replies The Deer.

"What's he doing all the way out here in these woods?  Doesn't he have a state to govern, or Salma Hayek to impregnate, or something?"

"Well he retired from being governor of California.  But it appears he's out here because he's being hunted by Predators."

"Predators?"

"Yep."

"Like, as in the movies?"

"Yep."

“You guys have Predators out here in the woods?”

“Yessir.”

"What Predators?"

"Those Predators."

"Where?"

"Over there in the trees."

"I don't see anything."

"That's because their cloaking devices make them nearly invisible to the naked eye."

"So how come you can see them?"

"I have an app for that."

"What?"

"My iPhone; it has an app for that."

"Your phone lets you see invisible, inter-planetary, super-hunters from a distant galaxy?"

"Of course it does!  It can do anything; it's an iPhone!"

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?  After all, the movie Predator was based on a true story.”

“It was?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Of course!  Do you think someone could just make all that up?  The truth is often stranger than fiction, my friend.”

“Huh.  I guess you’re right.  Well what about Predator 2?”

“As in the one with Danny Glover?”

“Yeah, that one.  Was that also based on a true story?”

“No way.  That was fiction.  That was just some made-up, Hollywood movie magic.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely.  I mean, let’s think about it for a minute; if Arnold and a bunch of expert commandos armed to the teeth can barely defeat one Predator, then there’s no way detective Danny Glover armed with a pistol could take one out.  After all, that guy was foiled by a bomb under his toilet!  I mean, c’mon!  Like, duh!  Of course there’s a bomb under your toilet!  Duhhhhh!” says The Deer in his best pseudo valley girl voice.

“I know, right?” agrees Ewan.  “What a rookie mistake!  I know I always check for bombs before I drop trow anywhere.”

“Riggggggggggs!  My pants are down and there’s a bomb under my toilet!” says The Deer, mockingly.

Ewan laughs.

“Riggggggggggs!  The ring came off my can of pudding!” mocks The Deer again.

Ewan laughs some more, then they laugh together.  “Ummm, okay, so what should we do about it?” says Ewan, wiping a tear from his eye as the last few chuckles slip out.

“Want to join them?” asks The Deer.

“Who?  The Predators?”

“Yeah, who else?” replies The Deer, rhetorically.

“Can we do that?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Ummm, wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Nahhhh.  We’ll be fine.  Come on,” says The Deer, motioning Ewan to follow him into the tree line.

               The two of them prance about fifty feet into the tree line when The Deer slows down to a halt near a big tree.  “Why did we stop?” asks Ewan.

               “We’re here,” replies The Deer.  “Hey guys, what’s up?” calls out The Deer toward the big tree.

“Who are you talking to?” asks Ewan.

“The Predators.  They’re right over there,” says The Deer pointing at the tree.

“Where?  I don’t see anything?”

“There’s one up on that first thick branch, and two on the ground in front of that bush; look closely.”

Ewan peers in that direction for a moment when he notices the woods moving just ever so slightly in a curious fashion, almost like they’re people.  He then notices the thin, subtly shimmering outline of three human-like figures.  “Oh, okay.  I think I see them now.  They seem to be holding pretty still though.”

“Hey guys, seriously, we can see you,” says The Deer again to the predators.

The predators one by one each turn off their cloaking devices and face Ewan and The Deer.  Each one stands at about eight feet tall with long, black dreadlocks.  Their leathery skin is akin to that of a crocodile and has a base color of a light tan with black striping over it.  Covering their thickly muscled bodies is an assortment of piece-mail body armor decorated with skulls and bones from the spoils of previous hunts.  They are heavily armed with various weapons including clawed gauntlets, a shoulder mounted cannon, and blades of varying shapes and lengths.  Covering their face is a chrome hunting mask with two glowing eyes.

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” asks The Deer very nonchalantly.

The predators just stare back at them blankly with their glowing eyes.

“Out for a hunt, are we?”

Still more silence and blank stares.

“Can we come along with you guys?”

The three predators look at each other awkwardly for a moment until the one in the middle finally shrugs his shoulders and motions them to follow.

“Cool, thanks,” says The Deer to them in an appreciative tone.  He turns to Ewan, “You ready, buddy?”

“Ummm, almost.  Give me one sec.”  Ewan reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a fifth of a dark liquid with a black label.  He unscrews the cap, takes a few healthy swigs, screws the cap back on, and puts it back into this inside jacket pocket.  “Okay, let’s do this.”

               The five of them stealthily pick their way through the quiet of the woods in pursuit of their prey.

               SNAP!

               Everyone freezes in place and turns to look in the direction of the noise.  Ewan looks down and sees that he has stepped on a twig, snapping it in half.  “Sorry, everyone,” he apologizes.

               “You should probably take your shoes off, buddy,” says The Deer.  “We gotta be quiet.”

               “Ahhh, good idea,” agrees Ewan.  He takes his shoes off and holds them up apologetically in the direction of the predators.  Satisfied with the gesture the predators start moving forward again.

               They come to a clearing and pause for a few minutes.  “What are they doing?” whispers Ewan to The Deer.

               “I think they’re trying to figure out which way Arnie went and which way they should go after him,” The Deer whispers back.

               “Oh, okay,” whispers Ewan.

               A few more minutes go by and they’re still holding their position when they hear a small pop followed by soft crunching noises.  The predators instinctively squat down and take cover as if they were being fired upon.  Then they look behind them and see Ewan holding an open can of Pringles potato chips.

               “Oh; sorry,” says Ewan, suddenly realizing that everyone is looking at him.  The Deer just shakes his head at him.  “Sorry!  We didn’t get to finish eating breakfast and I was starting to get hungry again.”

               “You had two plates of eggs!  And toast, and bacon, and some sausage, too!  That should be more than enough to hold you over until we get back,” exclaims The Deer.

               “Yeah, I know.  But we usually have three and so my stomach was starting to growl.  I didn’t want it to growl too loud and make a bunch of noise, so I thought it best I eat something.”

               “And so you picked potato chips?”

               “It’s all I had!”

               “Here,” says The Deer reaching behind his back into his wormhole.  He pulls out a chewy granola bar and hands it to Ewan.  “Now give me those,” he says reaching a hoof out for the can of Pringles.

               “Just one more--man these things are good!  It really is true what they say in the commercial about how once you pop the top you just can’t stop!”  He grabs a couple more and hastily shoves them into his mouth before surrendering the tube of chips to The Deer.

               “Shhhhhhh!” says the lead predator holding up a claw to the mouth of his chrome hunting mask to the both of them.

               “Sorry,” whispers Ewan.

               “Sorry,” whispers The Deer.

               They are about to start moving forward again when they hear more popping sounds, but this time in a sudden, rapid succession.  The predators and The Deer hit the deck and flatten out on the forest floor, covering their heads as they brace for incoming artillery rounds.

               But the rounds never come.
               They look over at Ewan and he’s standing in front of a stove happily cooking up some Jiffy Pop popcorn.  “What?  Did someone say something?” asks Ewan as he looks around at the group.  Ewan hears the hum of a high-pitched electronic device, then notices three tightly packed, laser red dots in the shape of a triangle on his chest.  “Oh… right; sorry!” apologizes Ewan to the lead predator.  The lead predator turns off his shoulder mounted cannon and points it away from Ewan.

               No sooner does the lead predator look away does he hear another pop.  He quickly turns his head back toward Ewan and glares at him.  Ewan holds his hands up and out at shoulder height, “That wasn’t me this time!” he says.

               “Sorry, that was me,” says The Deer holding the can of Pringles.  “I got a whiff of them when Ewan gave them to me and just had to have a couple; they really are irresistible!  Does anyone want some?” says The Deer, holding the tube of chips out towards the predators for a moment to offer them some.  “Anyone?  No one?” says The Deer still extending the tube of chips.  The lead predator just glares back at him, visibly seething with anger from under his chrome hunting mask.

The other two predators look at each other for a moment and then each extend an empty hand, palm facing up, toward The Deer.  “There ya go, fellas,” says The Deer pouring out a couple chips from the tube into each of their extended hands.  “You guys are both dudes, right?  It’s hard to tell, what with the masks and all the body armor.”

The two predators cautiously slip a chip under their masks and crunch them up.  Then they slip another and another as look at each other, nodding their heads in unison as if to say, “Hey, these are pretty good.”

“I know, right?” says The Deer to them.

The lead predator smacks the other two predators in the chest with the back of his hand to encourage them to pull it together and regain their hunting composure.  They quickly brush the chip dust off their hands and get their game faces back on.

The group walks for about another half a mile when the lead predator stops them.  Ahead they see Arnie lying in a mud pit with what looks like one leg pinned under a giant log.  “Come on!  Come get me!  I’m ova he-ah!” he calls out to them in a thick, Austrian accent.

The lead predator is about to take a step forward when he suddenly stops as his shin brushes up against something.  He looks down and sees a tripwire cleverly hidden in the brush lightly touching his shin.  He takes a step back and flips open the cover on his wrist console revealing an iPhone.

“Predators have iPhones?  I thought they had those weird, alien wrist consoles like in the movie.” says Ewan a little surprised.

“That was twenty-five years ago, buddy!” replies The Deer.  “No one uses wrist consoles anymore.  Everyone uses iPhones now.  Everyone but you, that is.”  The other two predators do a double take at that last statement.  “I know, right?!” says The Deer.  “He’s the last guy in the galaxy, and probably even in the whole universe, to not have an iPhone!”  The two predators laugh in response.

“You guys are all just pulling my leg.  They don’t really have iPhones,” says Ewan in disbelief.

One of the other two predators walks over to Ewan and motions for him to come in closer.  The Deer and the other predator crowd around him as well.  He flips open the cover on his wrist console revealing an iPhone.  Extending a single finger he brings up his photo reel and gracefully begins flicking through the stream of pictures.  “Wow,” says Ewan looking at the pictures.  “Rome… China… video of a cat in a sink… there’s even a picture of you planking on the Brooklyn Bridge!  Now that’s pretty cool.  I like how all the hipsters biking across the Brooklyn Bridge stopped to pose for a picture with you after your plank.  That’s a great selfie of you guys.”  The predator nods approvingly at Ewan’s comment.

“Wow, cool,” remarks The Deer.  “Can I follow you on Instagram?” The predator earnestly nods his head in response.

The lead predator clears his throat, indicating to the group that he’d like to get back to business.  The predator giving the slide show quickly closes the app to conserve battery life and avoid any further roaming data charges from Verizon, then he and the other predator hastily get back into hunting formation.

The lead predator touches his iPhone and brings up a predator trap detection app.  He points his iPhone at the tripwire and surrounding trees and can clearly see the intricate configuration of ropes, pitfalls, spiked logs, nets full of rocks, and other various traps.  He extends a blade from his spiked hunting gauntlet and makes a couple incisions at key spots in the network of traps thus disabling them and leaving them hanging lifelessly in the trees.

The Deer’s iPhone dings.  He looks at it and laughs.

“What happened?” asks Ewan.

“I follow Arnie on Facebook.  He just posted ‘I’m boned.  Hasta la vista, baby’ via Twitter.”

“Ha!” laughs Ewan.

The lead predator walks over to Arnie and with one arm reaches down into the mud and pulls him out.  He carries him over by the scruff of his neck like one would do with a small dog and puts him down sitting up on a large rock.  Then he just stands there for a minute.

“What’s he doing?” asks Ewan.

“Probably savoring the moment,” replies The Deer.  “His race has been hunting Arnie for twenty-five years and so this is probably like Captain Ahab catching Moby Dick for him.”

“Wow, that’s pretty epic,” agrees Ewan.  "Who's Moby Dick?"

“Yeah.  We should be quiet and let them enjoy the moment,” instructs The Deer.  Ewan nods his head solemnly and silently in agreement.

The lead predator paces back and forth in front of Arnie.  Arnie sits there on the rock visibly scared, but still holding it together in hopes of an opportunity to escape.  The lead predator stops pacing, and holding his arms outstretched, palms and head facing up toward the sky, deeply inhales, basking in the fresh air and warm glow of the sun.

He’s about to exhale when the silence is broken.

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK- CLACK- CLACK- CLACK- CLACK-ZZZZIT-CHING!

The predators assume a defensive formation and fire up all their weapon systems.  They look around, their weapon systems tracking for incoming, hostile fire, but don’t find any potential threats. 

Then they look behind them and see Ewan busy at work.  “Oh, sorry guys,” says Ewan.  “I was just typing up a quick memo on this old-time, turn of the century type writer.”

"Where did you even get that thing?" asks The Deer.

"It was in your wormhole," replies Ewan.

"What did I tell you about touching my stuff without my permission?"

"Sorry, buddy.  I just figured since we have a little downtime right now it would be a good time to catch up on my correspondence."

"No worries, buddy.  It’s kinda my fault, too.  I've been meaning to get you a wormhole of your own, I just keep forgetting."

“I’ll write you a note on my typewriter next to remind you.”

“Thanks!  I’d like that.”

“No problemo.”

The predators, quite speechless, just stare at Ewan.

“What?  You didn’t get a copy of the memo?  I’ll make sure you get a copy of that memo,” says Ewan.  “Although, yeahhhhhh, I may need you to come in on Sunday, too, to pick it up, riiiiiiiiight.”

That’s the straw that broke the predator’s back for the lead predator.
The lead predator turns off his cloaking device, pulls off his facemask, and throws it on the ground in frustration.  Visibly agitated he starts spouting off in his native tongue, which sounds like the clicking of a large spider.

“What’s he saying?” asks Ewan.

“Hold on a sec,” says The Deer pulling out his iPhone.  “Let me turn on my universal translator app.”

The app fires up and The Deer puts his phone on speaker.  The lead predator is in the middle of rant, “…All I wanted to do was spend a nice, autumn day…”

“It’s autumn already?” asks Ewan in disbelief.

“It’s autumn again already,” replies The Deer.

“Dang, how long have I been out here in these woods?” asks Ewan.

“Shhh!  You’re interrupting the predator’s rant, which is just adding insult to injury,” chastises The Deer.

“Oh, sorry,” apologizes Ewan.

The lead predator rants on, “…a nice, autumn day with my buddies, hunting Arnold Schwarzenegger, but noooooooo, some loud mouth jerkwad had to come ruin this otherwise pleasant afternoon with his shenanigans.”

“Who’s the jerkwad?  Me?” asks Ewan.

“Shhhh!” interjects The Deer.

Ewan then tries to make a joke to lighten the mood a bit, “Well at least you caught him, right?  I mean, if they make another sequel he sure won’t be in it!”  He chuckles at his own joke.

The lead predator is taken aback a moment and then with a stupefied look on his face starts laughing hysterically.  One of the other two predators whispers to the other, “I think Frank has lost it.”

“The predator’s name is Frank?” asks Ewan, still chuckling a bit.

“It’s a very common name in the universe,” replies one of the other two predators.

“Told ya,” chimes in The Deer.

The lead predator stops laughing and addresses Ewan, "Oh, you think this is funny??  You think is a big joke??  Well I didn't spend twelve light years in the car to listen to your jokes, pal!  Now I have a joke for you…"

The lead predator flips open the console on his wrist, punches in a complicated sequence of code, and it starts beeping in a manner resembling a countdown.  He then starts laughing a deep, ominous, manic laugh.

The other two predators look around at each other for a few moments in a panic, then they hightail it out of there in the other direction.

Ewan starts grinning and laughing along with the lead predator, “His laughter is infectious!”  The Deer does as well.

Still sitting on the rock and covered in mud, Arnie looks at the three of them standing in a triangle facing one another, each holding their stomachs and laughing a deep belly laugh like Santa Claus.  Sensing that this is his moment he makes a break for it, “RUNNNNNNNNNN!!!  GOOOOOOOOO!!!  IT’S NOT A TOOOOO-MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” he yells as he disappears into the tree line.

Ewan, The Deer, and the lead predator, Frank, are still laughing hysterically.  When the counter on the lead predator’s iPhone gets to the last second Ewan remembers the movie, stops laughing, and says, "Wait a minute; is that a bomb?"

Then the nuke detonates and levels the forest a mile in every direction.

****

"Did a nuclear bomb just go off?" asks Ewan, now covered in a fine, grey, ashy dust.

"Looks like it,” replies The Deer, also covered in soot.  “There's the mushroom cloud forming above us."

"How come we're still alive?  I mean, we're standing at ground zero for the explosion!"

"Oh, my phone has an app for that."

"Your phone has an app that protects you from nuclear explosions?"

"Or course my phone has an app that protects from nuclear explosions.  It's an iPhone; it can do anything!"

---

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• Next episode: Coming soon... 
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Episode 8: Campfire Stories

“I’m just amazed you all get cell phone reception out here,” says Ewan, despite the fact that what he should actually be amazed about is that a stuffed giraffe can send text messages.

“We have our own cell tower,” says The Deer.

“Really?” says Ewan.

“Well actually it’s more of a satellite uplink to all the major providers, and then some sort of wireless broadcasting thingy to push the signal out to all of us here in the area,” chimes in Tall.

“How did you guys get that?” asks Ewan.

“Tall got it for us,” says The Deer.

“What, did he just buy one on Amazon or something?  I mean, he’d probably get free shipping on it as it probably costs more than twenty-five dollars, but aren’t those things kind of expensive?  And it’s not like you can just put one together yourself,” says Ewan.

“Actually, you can,” replies Tall.  “We bought it from Sweden and so you could assemble the whole thing right from the box with just a single Alan wrench, which is provided in the box.”

“Those Swedes are pretty clever,” nods The Deer.

“Well yeah, the Swedes are clever.  Everyone knows that,” says Ewan as he opens his eyes wide to pretend that, like everyone, he also knew that.  “But still, where did you get the money for all this?  Did all the squirrels pitch in money from their internet businesses or something?” Ewan asks Tall.

“Nah, it was not a squirrel-subsidized project.  I used to own a geek-oriented beverage company and I made a small fortunate when I sold it to a larger beverage company,” replies Tall.

“So you started your own soft drink company, it started getting popular, and then someone like Coke or Pepsi came along and bought it from you?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Cool.  What was it called?”

“There was a soft drink product line, beer product line, and a bottled water product line.  The flavors of our soft drinks were ‘UNIX’, ‘Sprint Review’, ‘Gridbag’, ‘grep’, which contained chunks of Jell-o, and ‘Google Cola’,  which for some reason people in Italy insisted on calling it ‘Google-la Gola’.”

“What was the slogan for Google Cola?” asks Ewan.

“It was ‘F*** Pepsi and Coke; what have they done for you _lately_?  We brought you Gmail, Google Maps, and Droiiiiiiid,’" replies Tall as he lets out an appropriately timed, long beer burp.

“What about the beer?”

“It was called ‘pwd’ beer--tastes like UNIX!” says Tall, telling them the name of the beer and slogan.  “The geek water was called ‘/dev/null’.”

“Slash-dev-slash-null?  What the heck is that?” asks Ewan.

“It’s nothing,” replies Tall.

“What?”

“Exactly.”

Ewan shrugs his shoulders and continues, “So who was the bigger company that bought your geek beverage company?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“Apple,” guesses Ewan.

“Apple?  As in the computer company? ” asks Tall.

“Yeah.”

“That’s your guess?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not going to guess another beverage company like Coke or Pepsi, or even a food company like General Mills?  You’re going to guess Apple?” says Tall in half disbelief of Ewan’s answer.

“Yep.”

“No, it wasn’t Apple!” exclaims Tall.

“Well it should have been Apple,” mumbles Ewan, loudly and in a disappointed tone of voice.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, you’re probably right,” concedes Tall, pausing for a moment while answering.

“Why should it have been Apple?  Why would a technology company want to start a line of beverages?” asks The Deer.

“Because if Apple could make a soft drink that looked as cool as an iPhone or as one of their laptops people would drink the heck out of that.  And you know they could.  Apple may not offer as many products or services as other technology companies, but everything they make has that cool, clean, sleek look to it.  And that matters a heck of a lot more to most people these days than what the product actually does, or in this case what it tastes like.  They could rebrand Pepsi or Coke and people would still buy it just because the can or bottle would be so darn cool looking,” says Tall in defense of his argument.

“Very true,” agrees Ewan, taking another swig from his beer.

“And taste is kind of an unexplored area of technology,” continues Tall.

“What do you mean?” The Deer asks.

“Most of the emphasis on technology is focused on your sense of sight, i.e. they make the product as neat-o looking as possible so that you’ll look cool using it, which makes you want to buy it.  The secondary sense focused on is probably touch.  Everything has a touch screen now, and so when you touch stuff you feel like you’re actually doing something.  It won’t be long before touch screens are able to provide some sort of physical feedback, just like reading brail or something,” says Tall.

The Deer looks at Tall a bit puzzled, “So when you use your touch screen the screen will send a unique, physical sensation back to your hoof?  Like an electrical impulse or something?”

“Yeah, something like that, I bet,” answers Tall.

“Well that would be pretty cool.  But what does that have to do with soda?” asks Ewan.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.  So the one thing technology companies haven’t figured out how to do is how to get you to drink and smell their technology.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever wondered what an iPhone tastes like?”

“Not really, it’s just a phone,” says Ewan.

“It’s not just a phone!  It can do anything!!” defensively interjects The Deer.

“You’re right, it is the world’s coolest phone.  I retract my previous statement and apologize,” says Ewan, humoring The Deer to avoid an argument.  “But it’s made of metal and plastic and whatever and so I never really wondered what it tastes like.  It probably tastes like plastic,” says Ewan.

“True, but the fact that you never thought you needed something has never stopped the spirit of capitalism from trying to convince you otherwise.  As far as all the sales departments in the world are concerned you never thought you needed blank only because you didn’t know you needed blank.  And so if a company like Apple or Google were to come out with a beverage line, then all their loyal customers could feel like they are drinking their favorite products,” says Tall.

“I’m still not quite following you,” says Ewan, peering with one eye into an empty beer bottle, then into a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels, from which he takes a swig in hopes of improving his mental clarity.

“Okay, let’s take a step back then,”  says Tall.  “Look at rap music in the early 80s and 90s.  A new rap group would emerge on the scene, put out an album or two, one member might go solo and put out another album, but then the band would disappear into the pages of music history.  But what do rappers do nowadays?  They put out one album.  Then they start their own clothing line.  Then they put out a fragrance.  Then they do a couple TV shows, movies, and write a book.  Then maybe they think about putting out another album.  Today’s rappers are much more business oriented then they were twenty or thirty years ago, and it’s not really about the music anymore.  The music is just the vessel to create the initial image to pave the way for the other product lines.  And if you’re a new rapper who manages to hook up with an already successful record label, sometimes you don’t even need the album.  You just put out a single, or do a couple guest appearances on a label mate’s album, and bam, you’re ready for your own line of denim and edgy, graphic T’s.”

“Yeah, he’s right," agrees The Deer.  "All the old school rappers who made the transition to the new school stayed alive by doing that.  And now they’re helping all these young cats get from point A to point B to point C without having to spend a lot of time at point B since that’s not really where the money is.”

“Okay, I get that.  What does that have to do with soda and computers?” asks Ewan.

“Think about how wildly popular the iPhone is.  If Apple were to branch out and come out with their own clothing line, fragrance, soft drink, etcetera, they could expand their logo to new frontiers.  You could surf the web on your iMac while talking on your iPhone while drinking iCola while wearing iSmell Good/Hot Version 2.0 in your new iDenim jeans; iTights for the ladies and iTypes for the fellas.  They have a well defined look and marketing image.  They could expand on that into what that tastes and smells like,” explains Tall.

Ewan pauses for a moment to let everything he just heard sink in.  He then changes gears, “Well, do you have any of that PWD beer left over?”

“Yeah, I saved a few cases before I sold off the brewery.”  Tall gets up and walks over to the fridge, opens the fridge door, removes a bottle, and closes the door.  “Here,” he says, tossing Ewan a cold one.

Ewan pops the top and takes a swig, “It’s good!  What’s in it?”  He starts reading the list of ingredients on the label on the beer bottle, “Water, barley, yeast, hops, and megahertz.  …What are ‘megahertz’?”

“Magical elves,” jests Tall.

“Oh, I knew that,” says Ewan smiling contently.

---

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