A fridge full of beer but no bottle opener in your vicinity? This video might solve your problems. Check out these creative ways to open a bottle or a can. Cheers!

A short but important service message. We now have Struise beers on tap, permanently. This Thursday, you’ll be able to enjoy a draught Shark Pants. Yes, you read that right. Shark. Pants.

It’s a double IPA with 300 IBU, not for the faint hearted, but if you like your beers seriously bitter, don’t miss out. A collaboration brew between Three Floyds and the Struise Brewery.

Furthermore, we have kegs of Black Berry Albert, St. Amatus, Weltmertz and loads more ready and waiting in our cellar.

End of this service message.

I was quite baffled when I found myself staring at a large green container. I wanted to believe it was a plane so hard I dismissed all the other possibilities. What the hell was this container doing here in the middle of this desert?

The walk over took me more than an hour and I was in absolute need of water. My mouth was dry and I was exhausted because of the heat. The only thing that was keeping me going was my hunger for answers. And then, out of the blue, two pieces of the puzzle fit together.
David was locked up in a pitchdark room. How was it possible that he was able to read the note he found?
This was a bloody set up. I called him.

“David, what the fuck? You’ve been lying to me. You couldn’t have been able to read the note, since you told me the room you’re in is pitchdark.”
“Hold up, hold up. I forgot to mention I found a light switch.”
“And you expect me to believe this bullshit? I don’t know who you are, or why you’re doing this to me but get me the fuck out of this hellhole, you goddamn cocksucker!” I screamed until my throat hurt.
“Will you stop being fucking paranoid, because it isn’t helping us in any way allright? I’m telling you I found a lightswitch and that’s the truth. It looks like I’m in some kind of container. You know the ones you see in harbours.”
My jaw dropped. “I have to hang up now, I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

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Slow clap to you, Somersby. Slow clap.

Aaaand … interface.

There were so many questions I needed answers to, it was making me feel dizzy: why did I end up in this desert, why did I carry Kazachstan Tenge, why was there a mobile phone which only led me to Jake, was Jake who he said he was and most importantly how was I going to get out of here?

After careful consideration Jake and I both decided that in order to save valuable battery life, we would call every hour for a maximum of five minutes with the exception of emergency calls. We both had to try and comprehend the situation. We depended on each other, our lives were now irreversibly interconnected.

The fact that we both had a satellite phone suggested that we were far away from each other, or at least in remote locations, but that could easily be a false assumption. Nothing was certain. Nothing was absolute. I therefore decided I couldn’t trust Jake or any of the given facts. Jake could well be the man responsible for me being here.

I decided to inspect the satellite phone and I dialed a random number. I realized that just as Jake had told me, there wasn’t a number I could reach. Someone wanted me dead and enjoyed playing this morbid game with me.

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