Liz had a way of getting under my wife’s skin in a hurry. ‘Honey, that make up belongs to your mother. Also…’ I said. I was just about to go ...nto the ‘jump off a bridge’ lecture that had been so ineffectual on me as a kid, but somehow I felt would hit home with my eleven year old, when words I had been dreading for a long time spewed forth into the kitchen. ‘It’s not like she’s even my real mother!’ Liz spat out, with the voice only those in the venomous onset of puberty can muster. My skin. Brendan gave him a pained look and placed his hand on top of the glass. "Not quite what I remembered from two years ago," he said."The price of hops is through the roof. Government doesn't pay farm subsidies to farmers who grow 'sin' crops. It's less hassle and more profitable to grow other stuff. I know I sell this shit, but I wouldn't be surprised if they cured this beer with formaldehyde." What have you got that is drinkable and that I can afford?" Brendan asked.The man reached under the bar. More

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