Dear Cool Beer,
My name is Sarah Bertrand, and I am a 26 year old Chia Pet enthusiast, who enjoys antique hourglasses, hakka style chicken, and beer labels that contain some sort of ferocious animal.
About an hour ago, I was consuming some delicious spicy hakka style chicken, with white sticky rice, stir fried vegetables, and a Cheetah Beer beverage. My girlfriend, Holly, said I should get it because of it's name, and I agreed it was humorous and the notion of broadening my beer horizons excited me. The chicken was a little too spicy for my taste, and the beer, at first, seemed mediocre. Holly said it had an aftertaste of a bag of garbage that had been set on fire, but I think she was being a tad out of line. Post consumption, I didn't think anything was awry.. until, that is, we got home.
I began pacing around my living room in a panicked, primal manner. In circles. Growling at everything and being territorial. At first, I didn't realize what I was doing could be construed as odd. However, as I sit here atop the drapes, yelling my thoughts to Holly to translate into a serious email to you, I think that there is a problem. A big problem. And the problem is called, me now being a cheetah.
I just ate a raw porkchop, and I'm running around so fast, even my cats can't catch me. Please send the antidote immediately.
Sincerely,
Sarah Bertrand
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