Brokr 12

I want to say thank you. Brokr 12 is a whisky now, not a bit I tell at dinner and then forget. There is a bottle. It has my ridiculous name on it. People who are better at this than I am did the hard part. I mostly nodded and tried not to touch anything expensive.

Twelve is the number because that is how long the fight lasted. Twelve seconds. He was left in a pile of mess, of his own... The belt went on, I said thanks, and that was it.

I am told I lasted longer after the fight. The whisky certainly does. Aged properly, sipped slowly, and still standing in the morning. I will allow that joke exactly once.

The horse was not in the original plan. Neither were the barrels in the dirt. A photographer said the desert would make it look serious. I said I have never looked serious on an animal. We did it anyway. The horse was polite. I was not. I held a championship belt like it was a steering wheel and tried to remember which side you get off.

If you buy a bottle, thank you twice. Drink it slowly. I spent a career getting hit in the head and I still know this one is for sipping. If you hate it, tell me. I have heard worse from judges.