S.T. dropped the beer by the door, and pulled off one of them. Carbon dioxide hissed as he twisted the cap off. At least it hadn't gone flat. Or exploded. It still tasted like drinking sourdough starter. That had resulted in the Bartholomew Food Labeling Act of 1986, whose first (and only) edict was that if you didn't label it, Bart would eat half of it and try to give the rest away while high. S.T. had never figured out if he'd burned all of his taste buds away with drugs or if he just was that hungry.
Either way, this wasn't that bad, and it was at least alcoholic enough to piss off a Mormon. And he didn't want to vomit, so it was still as good as it was going to get. He dropped the note:
"Tifa"
Can't stay, drink this for me.
-- S.T.
on top, and knocked on the door. He walked away without waiting for an answer.
Outside F11
S.T. dropped the beer by the door, and pulled off one of them. Carbon dioxide hissed as he twisted the cap off. At least it hadn't gone flat. Or exploded. It still tasted like drinking sourdough starter. That had resulted in the Bartholomew Food Labeling Act of 1986, whose first (and only) edict was that if you didn't label it, Bart would eat half of it and try to give the rest away while high. S.T. had never figured out if he'd burned all of his taste buds away with drugs or if he just was that hungry.
Either way, this wasn't that bad, and it was at least alcoholic enough to piss off a Mormon. And he didn't want to vomit, so it was still as good as it was going to get. He dropped the note:
"Tifa"
Can't stay, drink this for me.
-- S.T.
on top, and knocked on the door. He walked away without waiting for an answer.
[to here]