The sweet warm burn straight down to...
The Demon At The Bottom Of The Bottle.
THE DEMON AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BOTTLE
It never starts out innocently when an alcoholic twists the cap off that bottle of whiskey.
Straight evil instantly waifs up and out of the bottle, invisible, smelling like the amber trail to hell.
And when that shaky hand raises the precious elixir to wanting slobbery lips...
The demon at the bottom of the bottle smiles again with that razor sharp toothy grin of... I've got him again!