Would You Like To Sniff The Cap?

Schmoopie and I go through quite a bit of red wine, judging by our recycling bin. As were in new territory, we're trying new things, and this includes local vineyards and labels that we hadn't seen in Colorado. So far, there have been one or two pleasant surprises, but that's not what this post is about. This post is about a vile swill that would gut kick you in a New York Minute. Schmoopie found it somewhere, or it was planted in her shopping by nefarious shadowy characters while she was otherwise engaged. The angry fluid could not be harnessed by something as organic and wholesome as cork, and so a threaded cap was responsible for containing this toxic elixir and keeping the environment safe from contamination.

Upon breaking the seal, an unwelcome exhale of decay and pain jetted into the room, and poked our sinuses with pointy poo-laiden barbs of humid cruelty. This was not a wine to be trifled with. The "Big Red House" it would seem is a home run over with the blood of the innocents. Not since a World Series bet was begrudgingly paid off to me with a railroad/flood salavage bottle of blush (complete with an E.P.A. label warning the consumer that the bottle was distressed, and that the consumer is advised against ingesting the contents) has this much unamusing nastiness been brought into my home.

No, we didn't drink it. I had concerns about pipe damage in pouring it down the drain.