Connie's dad is undergoing tests to see if he is losing it. That's what happens: you get old and go fucking crazy. Eventually your kids jam your crazy ass in a home where they only serve beer one hour per day. That's better than no beer at all, but not much better.
When my grandparents were in the One Hour of Beer Service per Day Home I was sometimes able to time my visits so I could have a guzzle with the old ones like the old days. The old dears lined up for their suds just like they do on the outside. I lined up with them.
It pissed off my grandpa. "They got us by the fucking balls in here Beer. I have to get George to get his second beer he can't drink so I can have three beers. I'm almost 90 years old. I don't know why they bother serving us food. I'd much rather just drink beer and pretend I was back in the War."
George was sitting in a big chair spilling most of his beer on to the floor.
My grandma was not any happier. "And they don't let us smoke! The staff sneak around back and smoke reefer every chance they get and I can't have a fucking smoke. They're all cocksuckers Beer. Cocksuckers!"
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