a scotchtober carol…

From the pen of an illustrious Scotchtobrist

On the eve of Scotchtober all of the good gentlemen of the world wait with anticipation…….snifter in one hand and cigar in the other.  They wait for the sacred hour when they hear the screech of tires in their drive and the subtle sound of a brick smashing their side window.  When what does their eye spy coming through the yonder mess of broken glass, but an inebriated Ron Burgundy come to bid another gent ado.  With a snort and a huff Ron proclaims “Mm, I love scotch. I love scotch. Scotchy, scotch, scotch. Here it goes down. Down into my belly. Mm-mm-mm” as he fumbles through your private bar.  Without a second thought or regard for your presence, good old “Scotchy Ron” heads to the bedroom, bottle of single malt in hand, and shouts with great auditory disgust “Dewar’s what the F#$K??”.  The next morning the gentlemen awake with empty snifters in hand wondering if it all happened dreamland……much to their great surprise they find that their wife is pregnant, someone has pissed in their coffee maker and shit in their sock draw.

Aw Scotchtober what a wonderful holiday.