Let’s Drink Beer – King Cobra
Ah, there it is. Old Faithful, I call her. A proper 40 oz. bottle of King Cobra just somehow looks more intimidating than other 40s. Is it the phallic imagery? I bet it’s the phallic imagery.
Boy, now I can’t wait to wrap my lips around the tip and suck out the flavorful juices within!
Get it? (Source)
King Cobra pours a nice – haha nah just kidding, you don’t pour out a 40 unless it’s onto the ground as a gesture of respect for the dearly departed. Plus the bottle is clear glass, so I’ll just tell you that it’s a clear amber color. Think apple juice, but a few shades darker.
Since I’m not pouring it into a glass, I don’t know what kind of head it would have. I’ll just guess that the foam on top would sizzle like acid. For an instant, it would form a picture of a snake slithering through a skull, because the thought of drinking King Cobra is surely a form of the Cruciatus Curse.
Scent, scent, let’s see. It smells like hair bursting through a chest. It smells like Budweiser in a red solo cup that has warmed up a little while sitting in the sun. It smells like most dive bars look. It smells like bloody knuckles in a dark alley. It smells like bad news on a humid day in Calcutta.
If King Cobra was a person, he wouldn’t be hanging out with you. He’d be cruising down the highway on a motorcycle, glaring into the distance, while the grit of the road grinds into his four-day beard.
Luckily (?) for us (me), King Cobra is not a person – it’s a 6% ABV malt liquor. But enough of the childish nonsense. Let’s find out what this tough guy does to a man’s mouth. Hah! Get it? (Jesus, I need some kind of mental filter.)
Right off the bat, it tingles the tip of the tongue. And it’s a tingle that lingers. Other than that, it tastes like a moderate malt 40 – like vile poison. But smooth poison; it goes down alright. You can really taste it in the teeth, somehow. And it does leave a vague pulsating feeling on the palate and in the gums.
King Cobra in the wild. Not pictured: passed out hobo. (Source)
Ah, there’s a little description on the bottom of the label. “Naturally brewed from select ingredients for you.” Yeah, I can see how that might be true. Naturally, maybe malts will fall into a rancid puddle and ‘brew’ in that way. And, in much the same way there’s a person who selects which corpse will be cut up by the shaking hands of med school students, so have these ingredients been selected.
A darker witches’ brew I have rarely tasted. But then, if we do not imbibe rancid filth of the lowest order, can we ever truly appreciate the pristine beauty of the stars, or appreciate their excruciating songs which they sing in their celestial mansions? I say, friends! – indeed we cannot. In this world of ours, the path to heaven lies through hell.
Overall score: One Poison.
Deadly, deadly Poison. (Source)