It is among my sincerest hopes that as few of you readers as possible know what this is and why I had to drink one today. But with a line like that, I can hardly leave your imagination sails to the wind. This, my friends and family and co-workers and acquaintances and strangers and et cetera, is a prairie oyster. Basically, it’s one hell of a double-edged sword to a hangover cure. Like Beowulf, he’s a legend of a hero but he also brags about it to the point that you get sick for a different reason. Anyway, the cocktail’s made up of an egg yolk placed in roughly one shot of tomato juice, a dash of Worcestershire sauce, a dash of vinegar, a bit of Tabasco, maybe a tiny bit of pepper and a sprinkle of salt, but most importantly is the addition of an incredibly long stare just to be absolutely sure you’re doing the right thing by drinking it. As soon as you think that stare’s starting to add a salmon of doubt to the mix, it’s time to shoot it before it turns. Then it makes your head feel smaller. Which is a good thing, especially if you’ve recently had your brain smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick. Bottoms up.
Listening to: Heaven’s On Fire, The Radio Dept.