He wept with all six eyes, and the tears fell over his three chins mingled with bloody foam.
They say that age is just a number, but in a barrel, time passes differently. And in a barrel that has already aged Malört, time becomes a crucible — a punishing inferno of sublime terror. The result is nothing more or less than the apotheosis of hot sauce itself.
Drink long from this bottle, and dare to taste the fallen divine.
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