Beer Noir

I leaned back with my feet up on my desk. I read my name backwards on the door and wondered. Like a bad joke told to a brown shoed square in the dead of night, it all came rushing back to me. I thought carefully about getting up from my desk, putting on my new Velarimosa prawn hat, opening the door to the hallway, checking the spelling on my name one more time, closing the door behind me, heading down to the first floor, making my way down the evening street full of worn out proles and pinheads, finding the corrupt pirate pastrami burrito vendor who trades fist fulls of change for volcanic gastritis, continuing to a dark doorway the length of which would lead me to a knuckle worn bar top of mildew and pine, mounting a bow-legged stool and ordering a pint of the nectaral Maximus Ale. And then I did.

-Lagunitas