My brother had a friend in college who went by the unusual moniker of John Mike. Don’t ask me how or why, I don’t know.But anyway, John Mike and my brother played together on the rugby team and, like all good rugby players, partied hard after their matches. If you’ve ever been to a rugby party, then what comes next probably won’t surprise you one bit. If you haven’t, well…
John Mike’s tradition at these parties was to show up with a Fo’ty of the Bull in each hand and commence to drinkin’. When he finished the first fo’ty, he’d crack the one in his other hand, but keep his grip on the empty so he didn’t have to be bothered with those annoying trips to the bathroom.
Basically a rugby player’s lo-tech version of recycling.
There was only one problem, my brother told me, with John Mike’s system. About halfway through the second fo’ty, when each bottle held a similar amount of golden liquid, John Mike would often forget which bottle was malt liquor and...which one wasn't.
Astonished onlookers would tell him, “John Mike, you’re drinking your own piss.”
To which, John Mike had a simple answer: “Man ain’t no man can’t drink his own piss.”
