My beer.

My beer is almost empty. He is like me in that regard, but he doesn't care about that. I found him in a closet of the house I'm looking after. Stored with 35 of his brothers for Christmas. Christmas last year. He was forgotten due to human distractions and problems he does not care to hear (his brothers, maybe 4 or 6 or 8 of them later, may have had to sit through tales of these kinds of problems, were they in another home). I chilled him, which pleased him. He exists for my enjoyment and he is best enjoyed chilled. I drank the last drops of him as I wrote this post and now he is gone.