Shalampax Speaks

Pretty well all of the regulars at Shalampax’s Third-Floor Pub are loyal drinkers of the establishment’s in-house microbrewery brand of beer. The reasons are simple. First, the taste is unique and flavorful, with hint of a musky quality.

Second, Redpencil, the owner of the Third-Floor Pub, charges significantly less for his brew than for imported beers. And, because there are no other breweries in Shalampax, all of the other beers are imported beers.

These qualities have always raised a couple of questions in the minds of the pub’s clientele. For one, what is the formula that creates such an unparalleled beer?

The second and most puzzling mystery is, how can Redpencil sell the beer so cheaply? Shalampaxians are not known for selling anything at a loss—ever. And Redpencil is renowned for fighting for every cent he can get when bargaining with anyone and everyone.

Redpencil has been running his microbrewery in the backroom ever since he opened the pub 21 years ago. In all of that time, he has always kept the room locked and never allowed a living soul other than himself to enter. What’s more, he has steadfastly refused to divulge the secrets of his beer formula and its low cost. Whenever he’s asked, he always mutters something about competitors and then quickly scurries away.

Shalampaxians are not the most inquisitive of people—not by a long shot. And I’m no more inquiring than average. Nonetheless, over the years I’ve become curious. That curiosity has slowly, year by year, built to a burning desire to learn the truth.

I’m happy to say that I’ve finally uncovered Redpencil’s secret.

Here’s how my discovery came about. I was in the pub last night, as is my regular routine. I had just settled into my first beer when I noticed Redpencil coming out of the backroom.

He was about to lock the door as he always does after leaving the room, but before he could do so his keen eyesight allowed him to spot a nickel lying on the floor on the far side of the pub. That near-perfect vision will be his doom. In Redpencil’s haste to rush over and pick up the nickel before anyone else got his or her hands on it, he forgot to secure the door.

Not one to miss such an opportunity, I dashed—OK, sauntered quickly; I’m not one for dashing—into the room while Redpencil’s back was to the door.

Inside, I immediately saw the brewing vat against the back wall. It appeared much like the pictures that I’d seen of standard brewery equipment. I was about to leave so Redpencil wouldn’t catch me, when I spotted something. There was a tube running from a hole in the wall into the top of the vat.

I knew I didn’t have any more time to investigate. By now, Redpencil had surely captured the nickel, fought off any contenders for the treasured loot, and must by now be returning to the backroom to lock it up. So I quickly—well, as quickly as someone like me is ever likely to go—slipped out.

Back on my perch at the bar, I could not enjoy my beer—and that’s saying a lot. I had to find the answer.

I began to reconnoiter. What was behind that wall in the backroom? I took a look around and followed the lay of the walls until I could thoroughly map the pub’s floor plan in my mind. It was clear. The tube had to lead directly into the men’s bathroom.

This was, to say the least, a shocking and mystifying observation. Determined to get an answer, I cornered Redpencil in a quiet section of the pub and confronted him with my discovery. He held out for more than half an hour under my blistering verbal attack, refusing to divulge his secret, but he finally broke down.

That unique, musky flavor of the pub’s house-brand beer is urine. The tube is connected to the urinals in the men’s room.

It turns out that Redpencil takes the cheapest brand of imported beer he can find and tops it off with urine from the men’s room. He absolutely refused to divulge the ratio of beer to piss, but he led me to believe that there is somewhat more urine than beer.

In addition to explaining the taste, this also solves the mystery of how he is able to sell the beer at such a low price and still make a profit. Most of his input is free.

Despite the fact that I greatly enjoyed the beer in the past, on learning the truth, I was deeply disgusted. On the other hand, one must commend Redpencil for his dedication to recycling. Beer in; piss out; beer in; piss out … it’s an endless cycle that minimizes the pub’s environmental footprint. I never knew Redpencil was so ecology-minded.