Joe the Raptor gets a Drop of Amber

I crept up slow on that crimped metal bottle cap restin' hollow-side up near the coaster. A solitary amber bead of ale sat pooled right in its center, smellin' rich, yeasty, and sharp. Now, my snout couldn't wedge clean into the bottom of that tin dish, but a hunter always recalibrates. I leaned my weight back onto my stiff tail, hooked my left sickle talon right under the fluted edge, and gave a sharp, sudden jerk. Clink! That little cap tipped clean on its side, runnin' that golden droplet right out across the dark varnish where I could lap it up proper. Mighty fine nightcap.