The servant, who now went by the self-anointed, and shamelessly narcissistic moniker, “The Prince of Hops”, was frustratingly diligent with his reports detailing his exploits and discoveries. Seemingly endless tales of mysterious treasures like West Coast beers, tattooed women, and wild parties filled the pages. Understandably, with each new report, the real Prince’s discontent and envy had only grown, and today’s letter set him off. Determined to find excitement and light amidst the colorless, banality of everyday life, the Prince selected three servants to lead him on outings. Hoping at least one would deliver an epic adventure, each was quite different than the other.
The elder, more boastful, yet less educated, of the three servants took charge and led the group towards a dank, musty part of the countryside. It was here, he swore, he had picked and eaten wild fungus that elicited ecstatic, electric, and care-free emotions. Again, he swore, (“no really”) that his companions on that trip were beautiful maidens and their epic evening was full of unfettered, flirtatious frolicking.
Figuring the older servant’s story had a shred of fact entangled in a knot of fibs, the Prince feigned his full belief and followed along. Once fully immersed in the forest, they came upon a large rotting tree that had, per the servant’s insistence, the magical mushrooms he’d eaten previously, growing underneath it. Plucking a few, the Prince handed them to the confident storyteller. Upon swallowing, the bragger’s voice started to soften, his face turned from bold to blanched, and before he could speak another overconfident word, he fell dead to the ground. The next day, the younger, more curious, of the three servants guided the group towards a different forest area, all the while, curiously drinking freely from a large jug. Known for his love to explore, fruit-forward palate, and passion for consuming fermented beverages, the eager lad set off at a sprinter’s pace and delivered the group to their destination before lunch. In no time the Prince found himself at the edge of a river, surrounded by a nest of piney hop vines growing amidst a sea of aromatic fruit trees. Starving, the group devoured the orchard’s delicious tropical and citrus products like guavas and pineapples. The young servant, who had nearly emptied his jug, was now inexplicably shirtless and slurring his speech. Several times he began to start, restart, and then change altogether, stories about his love for adventure, his love for whatever he was drinking, and, well, his love for just about everything else. Mercifully, as his fifth incomplete story, the servant stopped trying to talk. Instead, he looked at the Prince and said, “Bro, hold my beer. Watch me catch huge air.” With that, he quickly grabbed a nearby vine, ascended to the top of the tallest tree, swung out over the water and sailed into the air.
Landing in the rapidly flowing water, his body bounced off boulders like a runaway carriage wheel down a dirt path, and the young, adventurous, inebriated servant was never seen again. The morning of the third day, the middle servant told the Prince they were not going somewhere new, but promised he would get all the excitement he so desperately sought. The Prince, hesitant, agreed only because he knew this servant was the smartest of the three. And with that they grabbed horses, quickly stopped by the dank forest to pick mushrooms, rode through the orchard to load up on fruit, and made it home before dark.
That evening the servant brought the Prince behind the castle and made a fire. He took the cork off the top of a jug and passed it to the future King along with a handful of mushrooms. Concerned, but trusting of his wise servant, the Prince ate the wild fungus, and as it tasted terrible, he quickly chased it with a drink, and then another drink, and then one more. While he tasted the tropical and citrus fruits, it was like nothing he had ever had. Before long the two were giggling like little maids and laughing like Jesters. Their spirits so high they seemingly cleared the foggy clouds to reveal a sky bursting with stars twinkling like they had never seen. Happier than he could ever remember, the Prince asked the servant why he felt so good. “Tasty Hazy IPAs, the right fungus, and good friends.”
The wise helper explained that had the elder servant spent more time in Biology class than chasing maidens, he would have known which mushroom to pick for pleasure instead of the one that yielded poison. He continued, sharing that had the younger servant not skipped Chemistry to go rock climbing, he might have learned how to brew a proper beverage or that his over-fermented fermented fruit drink was similar to a poison punch that prevents reasonable decision making. And with that the two raised their jugs and toasted to finding better ways, celebrating brighter days, and drinking beers full of fruit and haze.
