Poop Shute

It was Friday, a warm, summer evening after a long work week. I did what most of us do every day. I walked into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, not having the slightest clue what I really wanted, but fairly certain that I would not find it in there. But we've always got to look, just to be sure, don't we?

I could have an almond butter and jelly sam'ich.

Nah.

Hummus and pita?

Nope.

Mixed veggie salad?

No way!

Ah-Ha! There it is! That is what I want. An ice cold beer.

I deftly popped the cap with the opener, a move that I have had much practice at over many years of dedicated beer snobbery. I took a sniff. The aroma was crisp and clean. Slightly sweet. Even without reading the label, I knew it was a lager from the smell. My mouth was watering with excitement for a good summer beer.

I was about to take my first taste when I noticed the writing on the inside of the cap, which I was still holding in my left hand. In block letters it said simply:

Let's Toast, Dude.

I stared at the cap for a moment, one eyebrow raised. I had never seen a "fortune" on the inside of a beer cap. Snapple has done it, and Jones Soda (I think) but I had yet to see it on a beer.

After a moment of contemplation, I shrugged and gently clinked the neck of my bottle to the side of the cap and quietly muttered "SLAINTE" to nobody in particular.