Eli tipped the bottle, feeling like drinking from a fountain of youth as the fine liquor poured down his throat, right until he heard a snarky voice coming from the left. This mocking, condescending voice made the very synapses of his brain flinch. His furious annoyance rendered him oblivious as to what the voice actually said. Lost in his own frustration, he squeezed his grip of the bottle even harder up until he finally caught up with the situation around him.
"...ight as well be drinking shit for all you know."
He turned his head to the left, and there sat a despicable punk sporting a shit-eating grin. Eli would not let the comments of these simpletons pass, no matter how hard he wished he could spit right now. He could not stand the smell of wet dog. It was repulsive. It was absolutely revolting.
He put down the bottle, wiped his chin with his left forearm and spoke with a dull, monotonous and low voice.
"You know, you sure bark a lot for a dog handler."