Ryan ChartrandSAN LUIS OBISPO – Long time patrons of Bull’s “Traditional, Not Trendy” Tavern were surprised Saturday night when they stumbled knee-walking drunk into the cowboy watering hole to order a round of infamous Bull Sweats and found that owners had replaced the rummy fare with newly concocted “Bull Shits.”
Regulars of Bull’s were not surprised Saturday night that bartenders continued to serve one man, despite his temporary loss of balance sending him downwards to the sticky tavern floor where he concussed his head on the metal pole of a barstool, shattered and spilled his liberally proportioned glass of Black Velvet Canadian Whiskey, and sliced his fingers open as he groped at shards of broken glass yelling “Let’s take Bull Sweats!” When questioned by bartenders to ascertain the legality of continuing to serve him, the man signaled he was OK by urinating in his pants and blowing large spit bubbles.
Bull’s owners tote the Bull Shits as the “biggest new thing today” in drinks existing solely as a reminder to the world and your friends about “just how big your testicles really are.”
The aforementioned Bull’s Patron Daniel McGreely spoke to us enthusiastically from his hospital bed about “Bull Shits” between intermittent pumping of his stomach. “First off, the glass they use ain’t your ordinary pea shooter. No sir. This glass is as deep as the Grand Canyon and as wide as the Wild West. Why, that glass’d be almost big enough to pot a Saguaro cactus in. They start with a Dimetapp base – you know, the grape elixir, the ‘”old medicine for colds that start in the nose.” Then it’s alfalfa juice, to simulate the juices of what the bull is been eatin’ all day. They put a big spoonful of chocolate pudding in there to give it texture. Then in the rest of the space you got your miscellaneous gasoline, grenadine, wood polish, wite-out, tobacco juice, liqueur of Krazy Glue, and rubbing alcohol to get you drunk real mean like. They ain’t half bad. Hell, I had four of them last night!”
McGreely cackled furiously and began to add something more to this comment, but was seized by a violent fit of bloody coughing, and had to be rushed urgently to the cemetery.
The Bull Shit shot is priced at a spendy $10, but owners assure us that this price is mathematically comparable to the price you would expect to pay for an equivalent amount of alcohol by volume at Costco, and the drink comes with a two sexually transmitted disease infected hookers or one liver replacement surgery warranty (whichever comes first) at no extra cost.
In an attempt to learn what Bull Shits taste like, we sent investigative reporter Mike Weary to Bull’s last night, but instead of contacting us with his description of their taste, he went missing, and was found the next morning naked in the gutter of Chorro street. Save for a souvenir Bull’s Tavern T-shirt and various depictions in Sharpie marker on his face and body, able to remember neither his name and address nor any details pertaining to the flavor of the Bull Shit. After a cold shower and a near world record urination lasting an unconfirmed 5 minutes 42 seconds, Mike began to piece the evening together. “It’s like there was party in my mouth, and the entire Deep South was there drinking moonshine and dancing on my tongue,” said Mike of the Bull Shit.