Beer Run, (Homeward Bound!)
Three short blasts of the klaxon draw the attention of the inhabitants as they look once more to the apparition on the low hill. Many smile as they watch the last of the beer trucks roll away.
The engines fire up with their customary puff of dark smoke, then tune to a clear exhaust. When the diverter funnels swing into position, the large hot air balloon surges with new life, lifting and swelling like a child being praised.
Passengers begin saying their Good-Byes and start the trek up to the loading ramp. Invariably, each one pauses in the climbing of the stairs to look over at the huge quantities of beer that have been brought aboard and secured in place. A few lick their lips as they then proceed upward.
Two more blasts of the signal resound and reverberate across the town. The time for departure draws near.
Whew! Almost missed getting on board...
Wait. I'm too drunk to fly!
Maybe we need a beer swimming pool...St. Briget of Ireland (the real saint, not the mythic one), once tried to give her listeners some clue to the wonder of heaven.
Heaven, she said, was like a home on the shore of a sea of beer....
Can I just have a diet coke with a twist of lemon and go rafting in the river of beer later?