Goose Island - Bourbon County

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a place called Chicago that sat in the middle of a vast and prosperous country called 'Murica-land. It was said that Chicago ran rampant with bulls and bears who would often be carrying their cubs on their back in a little saddle. There were often fires, but the people were still happy despite the bulls and the fires and the bears that carried around smaller bears on their back because they had a great many things to be happy about. An Italian plumber, who would moonlight as a baker, had a mishap with his pipes whilst making bread and a pot of meat-a-ball-a sauce and stumbled into the invention of the pizza. People of Italy would later claim that they'd invented it hundreds of years before but the people of Chicago knew the truth. They also had Bill Murray, who would sit around camp fires day and night telling who ever happened to be passing about the time he played basketball with cartoon-like super mutants or the time he got stuck re-living the same day again and again and again, which entertained the locals, who would often pay Mr. Murray in delicious, home cooked, food or in the form of novelties from sporting events that had no use after said sporting event.

...But something was missing. Even though Chicago had pizza and Bill Murray and bears that carried smaller bears around on their backs in saddles, there was still a hole, a gap, a chasm, a gaping void that only something forged of sheer magnificence could fill. The gods of Fun and Being Totally Kickass scratched their heads respectively and formulated a notion.

"If," the God of Fun pondered, "if we could group together the greatest brewing minds in this fair city and encourage them to build a brewery on that island over there..."
"...The one with all the geese on it?" Questioned the God of Being Totally Kickass
"Yeah, that one. They could make a beer so rich and so delicious, yet so ridiculously uncompromising that the entire world would have to sit up and pay attention!"
"Yeah, and we can both get wasted, get butt naked and run around on soldier field!"
The resulting high five was so fierce that the shock waves reverberated through time itself and are now considered to have caused the Great Chicago fire. Considered by who, you say? Oh, only MEGA-SCIENTISTS! THAT'S WHO!

...And what was that beer called? BOURBON COUNTY! By the brewery on the goose filled island!

Now I'm no psychic so I'm not sure how the conversation between all the brewery folk went when they thought about making Bourbon County but I imagine it went something like this:

Captain Awesome: Ok, I've had an idea for a beer.
Mrs. Pumpernickel: Whatever you do, it should be at least 15%
Captain Awesome: Agreed! It should be 15%! But it should taste like an intense vanilla milkshake mixed with some sort of extreme old school alco-booze.
Interrupting Goose: HONK!
Captain Awesome: I agree, gentle goose! If we aged this beer in bourbon barrels then it would give us everything we wanted!
Interrupting Goose: HONK!
Captain Awesome: HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY MOTHER! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!

*several hours later*

Captain Awesome: You win this round, goose! Now, let us return to brew-thinkery, horrid beast!
Interrupting Goose: HONK!
Captain Awesome: Right back at you! Anyway! This beer should be a stout that is as black as those old racist cartoons with a hardcore kick that'll scare the living piss out of anyone not expecting to be drinking the TRUE NECTAR OF THE GODS!

*Lightning crash*

Talking Llama: What about a subtle chocolate taste, old bean?
Captain Awesome: Wow, that pipe and monocle really suit you Reginald! I think a subtle chocolate taste would be a capital idea!
Gail who answers the phones: I think it should be a stout and you should age it for 5 years...

*Silence. Captain Awesome and Reginald the talking llama do not know anyone called Gail and are super-telepathic with all their best chum-pals so, therefore, have no need of phones.*

Captain Awesome: ... Sure. We... Can do that, I guess.

And so it was that Bourbon County was forged. The world rejoiced. Women and children cried in the streets. Geese ran rampant and made several failed attempts to gain suffrage. And in a land far far away, I simple beer critic got to his 100th beer review, got really excited and drank the 15% beer before he'd even started writing the review, he became horribly drunk and happy and wrote a story that didn't make any sense to praise one of the best and definitely one of the most memorable beers in the world today.

The End