"Wait, so he hit you?"

We had been over the story several times by now, as Carl sat down bringing a fresh round of amber colored liquid in pint glasses.

I ignored his question as I tried to figure out if this was another IPA or something different.

"Yes," I said, snapping back to reality.

"Damn dude, that fucking sucks," Carl said taking a sip of his beer.

I shook my head in agreement. Took a sip. It was the IPA. Damn that is a good beer.

"Yeah, he just snapped after I told him he was being an asshole and jacked me right in the face," I said as I gestured to the obvious mark on my face.

"And he did it at your niece's birthday party?"

"Yeah, the guy is just a fucking asshole."

"What has your family said?"

"So far, nothing. Other than they agree with me that the guy is a dick. My mom is glad I said something, because once I left, apparently he stopped being such an asshole."

"Ah, the sacrificial lamb."

"I'll cheers to that."

Glasses clinked, then thudded back to the table and then up to our mouths for a hoppy victory sip.

"Well, you ok?"

"Yeah, for the most part. It's not every day you get hit by your brother, at his daughter's birthday party. So, chalk that one off the bucket list."

It did suck. And I was miserable, but that was no one's business.

"How about another cheers for that," I suggested.

"Sure," Carl said.

We followed through with our ritual.