It seemed to be the typical lazy Saturday evening in the hood, with most of the members out pursuing other interests instead of being available to share a few beers. Coach Johnny Wilder was away with his softball team the "Donkey Punching Kangaroos", who were in the midst of a heated tournament battle to prevent being relegated to the "chicken, beer and Mexican gardener league". Crazy Ken, who recently decided to become carbon neutral, was out on a 500 mile bicycle pilgrimage to D.C. to spread the alarming news that offshore oil drilling is apparently killing rednosed snail darters around the globe, while 10 PM was out in "B.F.E." judging a "world's strongest redneck competition". However, Snake, his better half Blackberry Pamcakes along with Bim and his bride Florence Naughtygale had decided that a few beers needed to be culled from Snake's growing cellar. They started off with a pair of Three Floyd's beers, Robert the Bruce and Alpha King, both of which are phenomenal for their style. They then popped the top on several bombers of the RFG rated Firestone Walker Double Jack, when all of a sudden, a thunderstorm descended upon the neighborhood with the vengeance of a hobo on a ham sandwich. The howling winds, crackling lightning and booming thunder had Bim running in circles trying to find his "thunder buddy". It was about the time Snake found his grandson's pacifier to give to the bawling like a colicky baby Bim that Fred and Nestle rolled in, just in time to partake in a fresh bottle of Avery Maharaja. As we listened to the storm dump copious amounts of rain and hail, we also enjoyed some Sierra Nevada Hoptimum followed by a pair of newly arrived cans of Alchemist Heady Topper. After an hour or so of steady precipitation, the rains finally died off and we adjourned to Snakes palatial sunroom to the ear shattering cacophony of a frog singing like he was trying out for "American Idol". "Holy fuck, thats annoying", said Snake, while Pamcakes replied, "shut up you big head, it reminds me of growing up in the summer, let them froggies sing, they ain't hurting nobody". As we tried to drown out the amphibious opera with Snake's classic 70's tunes filled ipod, we switched from IPA's to heavier beers by opening a Beach Brewing Blackfin barleywine followed quickly by a Founder's Backwoods Bastard. As the frog continued to drone on, Snake got up and left the room, only to return with his Crossman 66 Powermaster assault BB rifle and a thousand yard stare in his eyes. "That's about to be one dead fucking frog" he decreed, so we got up and went to the deck to begin the hunt. Former Scoutmaster Bim immediately took charge of the expedition and using his GPS, laser scope, and a little bit of "Magruber", eventually found our prey sitting in the open with a tauting gleam in his eye. Snake proceeded to unload a fusillade of metal at the frog, only to end up putting multiple dents in his newly erected composite fence while the frog simply continued to sing. "Motherfucker moves as fast as a cheetah" Snake said, while Bim replied, "I think he's on to us, evacuate evacuate!" The smoke then cleared and we went inside to reload and have another beer, this time we chose the fruity and delicious New Glarus Serendipity followed by a coffee/bourbon bomb in Alewerks Cafe Royale. About the same time, a second frog decided to showcase his vocal abilities and we soon had a duet. A thoroughly agitated Snake grabbed the gun and stormed outside, saying he would unleash a thousand rounds if necessary to "annihilate those bastards". "Let me have a try" said Nestle, so while Fred painted the targets, we watched as she fired two quick rounds which produced two confirmed kills. "She shut those fuckers up good and dead" said Snake, while Fred added, "We would have won the Vietnam War in under a year if the Army had her shooting old Charlie." After witnessing the deadly pinpoint accuracy of our own "Annie Oakley", Fred suggested that perhaps Gunnery Sgt Hartman had gotten it wrong in describing the deadliest person in the world in the BC4M Hall of fame classic "Full Metal Jacket". "Fucking-A, my girl can flat out hunt bitches!" he said, while Bim howled with drunken laughter and replied, "You best mind your mouth or she might pop a cap in yo ass". By now, the clock was well past midnight, and Bim was beginning to look like a stroke victim eating oatmeal. We decided to call it a night, but not before opening the final beer of the night, ironically enough, a Hoppin Frog Barrel Aged BORIS the Crusher while we heard Robert Plant and the boys from Led Zeppelin serenade the two fallen aquatic balladeers with a little ditty called Stairway to Heaven. Another classic BC4M evening in the books, if you ever need varmints taken care of, just remember to have "Nestle, "Get your gun"
