Fourteen Beers at Chili's

Page 6

Fate favors the bold. Fried pickles are a run-of-the-mill appetizer you can get just about anywhere, but Southwestern Eggrolls are unique and inventive. You're sure the creative team at Chili's who creates the menu items put a lot of hard work into developing such interesting dishes, and you want to reward their efforts.

"I'll take the Southwestern Eggrolls and a dollar beer."

Maddie scribbles down your order and hurries on to the next bro. Nobody else agonized over the menu like you did. They don't understand fine cuisine like you do.

The first round of beers makes it to the table in record time. Maddie balances the ginormous tray of drinks like a champ, passing them out without spilling a single drop. Now you feel exceptionally bad for not planning on tipping.

Despite only being a dollar, the beer is a generous pint, beautifully frothy and chilled to perfection. A bead of condensation slides down the glass, and you lick your lips in anticipation. You wonder if Derek or one of the bros is going to make a toast, but they pick up their glasses and down them unceremoniously. The bros must have been used to drinking shitty stale beer from old kegs they found forgotten in the frat house basement. You are the only one who appreciates the quality of the beverage Chili's has so graciously served you.

The appetizers arrive before you have a chance to sample the beer. You nearly moan at the sight of the Southwestern Eggrolls. The wrapper looks perfectly crispy, the cheese perfectly melty, and the ranch perfectly ranchy. Even though the food is ungodly hot, steam rising, you can't resist. The eggroll burns your fingertips and tongue, but you don't care. The ice cold beer soothes your aching mouth. The flavors meld together in a symphony of angelic trumpeting, Gregorian chants, and the soft tinkling of bells. This is nirvana. This is utter bliss. This is-

"Hey bro, let me try some of that."

Wild-eyed, you straighten as you realize you'd been hunched over your food like an animal. Derek sits across from you, motioning down to your eggrolls. You resist the urge to growl at him for ruining the closest thing you'd ever had to a religious experience. As much as you don't want to share, you're afraid of looking rude in front of the bros. Comradery and brotherhood was sort of their whole thing; it wouldn't look good to deny Derek a bite of your food. Your eyes dart between Derek and your plate as you struggle to make a choice.

Do you...

SHARE THE FOOD (GO TO PAGE 8)

TELL DEREK TO FUCK OFF (GO TO PAGE 9)

BEER COUNTER: 1