Got Beer? The Ghost Returns

I was browsing for something light and summery to fit the first day in six months I received vitamin D naturally when I came across a sight that brought me to an abrupt and disappointed stop. Rebel Grapefruit IPA?

I sighed and tried to remember when our beloved Boston Beer led the pack instead of nipping at the heels of the fresh young pups. It only occurred to me a little too late that picking up the bottle and popping the cap might have some negative side effects. But I am often a foolish soul, so immediately I was engulfed in hoppy-smelling blue smoke as the spirit of my favorite dead founding father appeared, no doubt to teach me another lesson about life that I didn’t ask for.

“For god’s sake!” I distinctly remember exclaiming with dignity, and absolutely no trace of a girlish squeal at all.

“Lo, it is I! The great spirit of Samuel Adams! You have released me from my prison! Pray tell, how long has it been?”

“I don’t know, maybe six months,” I said, wearily.

The spirit seemed dejected. “Forsooth,” it said. “It’s you again.”

“Do we have to do this?” I asked. “This whole bit. It’s played out. It was played out two years ago.”

“Verily,” it said. “But in a bizarre twist, it is I who require guidance and freedom. For you see, I have been trapped in this bottle of India Pale Ale for many a fortnight. And others like it! First the Rebel IPA, then the many incarnations and variations, culminating in this fruit-based abomination.”

“This from the same source as the Cherry Lambic,” I snorted. “It’s not even an original idea!”

It rumbled, setting my teeth on edge. “Please, humble beer nerd, I beseech thee, save me from this monster of my own making!”

I sighed and braced myself. I took a sip of the golden brew, expecting grapefruit tartness to hit my tongue like a vengeful lemon, but no. In the tradition of current Boston Beers, it’s well balanced, especially for an IPA. But I can see where die-hard hop heads might be displeased. “Hey, this actually isn’t bad,” I said. “The hops work well with the grapefruit, and the malt body carries it through.”

The ghost raged. “But thou despisest fruit beers!”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m not going to pick on a beer JUST because it’s fruity. I can be fair-minded. Besides, it’s actually pretty good. Hell, if I can give Yellowtail’s beer credit for trying, I can handle this.”

“But now, there shall be no stopping them! Rebel Grapefruit, then Rebel Lemon, Rebel Avocado, Rebel Coffee!”

“That last one sounds good,” I remarked, carelessly.

“To hell with you! If you shall not stop the ruination of my brand, then I shall!” The angry spirit streamed away into the night sky. I don’t know what havoc he might wreak, but now that I know ghosts can be contained in beer bottles, I know who I’m gonna call.

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