Tamama needed a drink. He was in Boston and ran into a bar. In the bar was an old man with a Blueshirt and hair all over.
"Bartender get me some of that crunk juice," Tamama demanded.
Coach stared at the ceiling drooling for 6 minutes before answering. "Welcome to Cheers would you like an alcoholic."
Tamama flourished a bunch of yen even though he couldn't use it in america. "A glass of your finest pinot noir."
"One beer it is," Coach moaned. He haphazardly broke a bottle over a dixie cup and gave Tamama whatever fell in, shards and all. He placed it on the table and leaned closer to the frog-like being and whispered.
"Sometimes I pee in the beer."
Tamama didn't care if his drink had senior citizen urine in it. He was getting desperate. He guzzled all three drops of it. "Thank you," he said, sliding the money over.
Coach pondered the currency for a moment. Suddenly, he poured whiskey all over the bills, pulling out a lighter. "This is the work of the devil."
Tamama could only watch in horror. Coach's eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped the lighter on the yen and began screaming the Pledge of Allegiance as Tamama's life savings burned to ash.
