Capped and Cracked

Dropped down off the mailbox post into the morning dust. Right in the roadside gravel lay a sun-faded amber beer bottle, seal intact, buried up to its neck in dirt. That's real cargo. I kicked the loose grit away, wrapped both arms around the glass cylinder, and hauled it straight up onto a flat limestone rock. The steel crown cap was rusted tight around the rim. Didn't wait for a bottle opener. I hooked the cap lip against the sharp ledge of the stone, planted both combat boots into the gravel, and slammed down hard with my right fist. Cap popped clean off with a sharp hiss. That's how it's done.