He held up the unopened can of beer and glowered at it.
“You’re the reason everything’s gone to hell.”
It was late, and he was the last one in the brewery’s offices. By all rights, he should’ve gone home hours ago. He couldn’t face his family, not when everything was falling apart.
“No one wants bottles any more. They want something they can crush, then hurriedly toss away like trash before it gets a smell. They want something to make them happy now but not remind them of how many they had come morning.”
He set the beer down on his desk, pulled open a drawer, and started rooting around in it.
“We were set up for bottling. But, everyone wants cans now. So, we retooled the whole assembly line to make you. God, was that a disaster. No one cares about you anywhere else, you just sit on shelves gathering dust. Ah, there it is.”
The metal of the flat top can opener glinted in the lamplight, like a murderer’s knife. He closed the drawer and looked back at the can.
“You’re ruined me, you see. And now I’m going to take my revenge.
“I’m going to drink you.”
The Tennessee Brewing Company was one of the largest breweries of its time when it was opened in the late 1800s. It prospered up until Prohibition, when it was shut down. Its doors were reopened after The Great Experiment ended, the brewery re-opened, and for a time business was good. Unfortunately, the transition to metal cans and a narrowing regional market proved to be too much for the company to handle. The company and its magnificent building were shuttered in 1954.