Dearest reader,

Are you well prepared for all that is now to come? Have you made what peace you may with your kin, your circumstance, your very self? For you know as well as I that tomorrow is Allhallow's Eve. You know as well as I what horrors await the setting of tomorrow's sun. Time grows ever short, my friend.

Yet,  some meager joys yet exist for those with the constitution to search for them. Take, for instance, this beverage I have found: Fat Orange Cat's Cautionary Tail. I will take what pleasure I might in it and draw what fortitude from it I can ere the long dark of the night of horrors falls upon the hills of my home.

Finding this elixir is naught but a miracle in these bewitching times. You may recall my missive to you but a year ago, in which I reported the shuttering of the brewery that crafted the ale upon my desk. Fret this naught, for not all is lost! Somehow, from beyond the veil, Fat Orange Cat survives! What once lived strong in Connecticut cannot truly be snuffed from life!

That life lingers yet within the recipe for Cautionary Tail. The unquiet souls of the Untappd knowledge repository detail the draught as such: A pumpkin ale of 8-percent alcohol by volume combining both vanilla and spice. With this shall I steal away from the nightmares yet to call upon my door.

The bouquet wafting from the open can heartens me, warming me against the pressing chill with notes of pumpkin and vanilla, nutmeg and cinnamon, and ginger and allspice. I find, however, layered beneath those warming aromas, something darker, more powerful than what I had initially discovered: A frightful strength that I can only name as the alcohol content of the beer.

Wait! What did I glance in my periphery? There--in the corner! I must quickly think of something for she approaches now! Henrietta the Horrid, rising once again from the putrid shadows in which she dwells! The ale!--I'll hold it out to her that she may be distracted long enough for me to make my escape. Yes! It works! Cautionary Tail is an anathema to her--she turns her face from it completely. I now make haste to my study.

Here, where I am safer than I was only moments previously, will I continue my exploration of the ale, that which so adroitly turned away that fiendish feline. A draw from the container presents me with pumpkin and slight vanilla, both of which fade into spice before the gourd reappears as the ale finishes, a flavor which binds itself to the alcohol heft that I now realize permeates the whole of the concoction.

All that at present frightens me is the slight consistency of the ale; it is as thin as the veil now grows. Will this be enough to truly fortify my soul against She Who Now Creeps Ever Nearer, or, no less pressing, the terrors that are certain to await me on the morrow?

I find myself of two minds when I consider Fat Orange Cat's Cautionary Tail, dear reader. It will see me through the night, of that I am sure. Yet, I doubt it will keep me secure as the sun sets upon Hallowe'en. I must use the dim light of the coming morn to find a more fitting relief, one that will do more than offer an 8.5/10 comfort. I can only pray that you do the same.

May providence see us safe from Henrietta the Horrid and the ghouls and ghasts of the coming night.

Yours,

John