The Demonist
Tim buys a book. Tim accidentally summons a demon. Hilarity, carnage, ensue.
American Male: Okay, Coors, so it's cool about those twins. I mean yeah, I like twins. Cheerleaders are good too, I guess.
Coors Beer: Twins, right? And cheerleaders! Fuckin'-a!
American Male: Thanks to the internet my tastes have evolved into something a little more, uhh, specific, but tits and short skirts still tickle the lizard brain.
Coors Beer: I got your back, buddy.
American Male: Uh huh. Last night I saw your new commercial, you know, where the woman spreads a trail of rose petals across the floor of the kitchen and meets her guy wearing lingerie. She says 'like what you see?' to him and he's like 'yeah,' but he's looking at his beer in the fridge and not her.
Coors Beer: The commercial runs counter to expectations. The man ignores the advances of a woman. That's what makes it funny.
American Male: I don't know, she's horny, or she wants to do something nice for the dude or...I don't know. Maybe she's insecure about their relationship. That's reading a lot into it. Anyway, he's supposed to be me, right? The everyman so beaten down that not even fucking interests him anymore. She's a good looking woman, but that guy on the commercial has absolutely no interest in her.
Coors Beer: Sometimes a guy just wants to kick back and have a cold one, right? No hassles!
American Male: No. It's accurate. Shit's been bad. I got laid off forever ago. You know that. Money's tight and the kids, well, I don't want to talk about the kids. So sex isn't really a priority for me. Not that my wife spends much time throwing around rose pedals in her underwear. She's been grabbing all the overtime she can.
Coors Beer: You're making me sad. Don't do that.
American Male: How’d you decide to sell beer to my depression and my crotch at the same time?
Coors Beer: It's the circle of life!
American Male: Mercenary.
Coors Beer: Yup. Guilty. If genital warts or suicide sold beer...
American Male: Whatever. Look, as long as a case of Coors costs a buck less than a case of Bud down at the C & J, I'm your loyal drunk.
Coors Beer: High five!
American Male: You’ve never been able to decide if women are the uhh…the lady or the tiger.
Coors Beer: Huh?
American Male: Yeah, that wasn’t right. The goat or the catamaran? Sexy bear traps? Remember, I am pretty drunk.
Coors Beer: Not a problem.
American Male: Anyway, what bothers me most about the commercial is the last part. The 'is your beer cold?' gimmick. Those little things on the can that turn blue? The mountains.
Coors Beer: Cold-Activated bottles and cans: know when your beer is ready to party!
American Male: Yeah. I hate those things.
Coors Beer: Let me guess: you can tell when your beer is cold by touching it? It’s insulting to your intelligence? We caught some of that during the focus testing, but--
American Male: No. It pisses me off that you’re trying to tell me it matters. Like I could let the beer down by not drinking it right. I'm an out-of-work, nostalgic frat boy with four kids and an on-again-off-again case of impotence. I drink your beer warm while I sit in the garage all by myself and stare into space. Once I left an open can on top of the barbecue grill for three days, rediscovered it, and then drank it down.
Coors Beer: Whoa, I think--
American Male: You’re telling me that I can fail at drinking beer too, along with everything else.
Coors Beer: Hey, speaking of drinking it down, I think you've killed that soldier. Want another? Look, they're cold!
American Male: ...yeah, okay.
Coors Beer: Great.