Get your own damn beer

Death to beer moochers everywhere!

I do truely love my brother Darrel, and my cousin Luke, but I heard something out of both of their mouths this last week that was so beyond shocking that it left me to stand in front of them with no discernable expression, and no response, which was itself beyond shocking, and compounded my inability to respond. My mouth found itself tripping over over my brain's inability to come up with a retort, and my brain in a more unusual state of not hearing words come out of my mouth, due to the fact that I have on many occasions spoken without thinking, so this was a truely odd occurance.
Another distinct oddity was that the offending comment came from their gobs on different occasions.
Well, on with the show.
As you all know, everyone is welcome to come to the hizzy and have some beer. By everyone, I meant the ten, no eight people I like. You come in, open the beer drawer (beer stays colder in the crisper drawer), and holler, "ONE OR TWO?" I'll let you know if I want another, for we'll make the assumption that I'm home from work and am awake, meaning I've already had one or two.
When you come down to the basement to the shop and I ask if you're going to be over for a bit and you say yes, well...I'll just let you pick out what not to say to Andy who knows how much beer's in his frige and its time apportioning:
"Are you just stopping by?"
"Nah, I figured I'd have a couple of beers."
"Let's go make a b-double-e."
"We don't need to do that, I'm not going to have that many."

(sound of needle scratching record)-PING! W-W-W-W-W-WHAT?
After a short silence and stare my brain elbowed my mouth and told it to shit or get off the pot, and I finally said to Darrel (who was stunned at my oral confoundment as well), "After the one you're having, are the fucking beer elves going to magically restock my frige?(time out for you all to reference my stature and alcoholism) Do you want me buzzing and happy, or do you want me pissed off and more pissed off? Fuck it. You stay here and I'll be back in a minute."

When my cousin Luke said the same thing a few days later, my mouth again jumped the hurdle after several seconds. This time my witticism was a little more pointed- "Did fucking Darrel call you? You both said the same thing."
"Nope. I just gotta get back and make dinner."

Now, I don't mind people coming over and doggin' up my beer, but holy cow that was retarded.

Yankee John's got it right: Bring me beer.

"The beer that I am holding will go from full to empty," said Danny Donkey, "and I will be happy."