He's Got The Balls

You got the balls for it?

The Bear-Man had snuck up behind me as I was peering at the beers on his shelves.

I beg your pardon!?

I said sternly to disguise my little jump of fright that I had just landed from.

You heard me. You got the balls for it?

The Bear-Man beamed happily at me like a broken bottle in the sun.

I opened my mouth to declare that I had big leathery balls and they were ready for anything then hurriedly stopped myself.

Have I got the balls for it!?

Was he finally making his power play? If I agreed would I find myself dressed in a tutu, an apple stuffed in my mouth en route via a cargo container to Belarus??

Balls for what?

I asked flatly.

We're having a beer tasting tonight? In the shop. You up for it?

The Bear-Man sidled closer.

I won't lie to you, it gets a bit fuckin bonkers!

He grinned.

I looked around at the beer shop and the countless delights on its shelves.

How much is it?

I asked.

My intrinsic Scottishicity assuming this was all just a preamble to getting pumped for money.

The Bear-Man stepped back and stretched his arms out wide. If his grin had been wide before it was now bordering on scary.

It's FREE!

He boomed.

Deep inside me my giblets frizzled a bit. Free!? The magic word? But how? How could he afford to give away free beer?

I had to tread carefully here lest I ended up in that shipping container after all.

These fucking craft beers, they don't last long so every now and then I get all the ones that are almost past or just past their sell by date and invite some of my good customers for a tasting!

He held his massive belly and emitted a deep chuckle as if he could already picture me in a Princess Leia bikini.

It's fookin carnage, to be honest.

He laughed.

My thoughts raced. Free beer! Fucking carnage!? What was not to like!?

Then a sobering thought hit me. I couldn't, the Good Lady would never let me. The price of parenthood to two little children mean nights out are sparse things indeed and I already had a night out for a book signing arranged for next week.

So. You got the balls for it? Might even give you a few to take home!

The Bear-Man nodded, willing me to say yes.

Hang on.

I said, moving to the back of the shop and whipping my phone out. She would say no. I knew she would but a fellow has to try, surely?

The Good Lady answered her phone and I rapidly explained my predicament.

Oh, Daddy-Bear, it's really short notice. Maybe next time?

She grumbled in a way that I had expected.

I know, lass. I just thought it worth asking. That was all.

I answered sadly.

And how could you possibly afford it? We are going on holiday in just over a week.

She lamented as if I were an old dog and it was cheaper to put me to sleep than treat me for fleas.

Well, that's the thing. It's free.

I answered.

There was as pause on the other side of the phone.

Oh...

My heart skipped was I realised I had said the magic word free.

Well. You absolutely have to go. You can't refuse free beer!

She chirped.

Baby-cheeks, you're the best!

I hung up and swung around to face the Bear-Man.

Better get the mop out big man, I'm coming!