After being the first person to crowd-surf at a company meeting (and this after asking one of the all-time out-of-left-field questions), you retire to your home to start in on brewing your first ever batch of beer. You expected to be joined by at least one friend for help (and company) but upon opening the door you discover two things. First, that home has shrunk to the size of a college dorm room. And second, that your friend has divided into about a half-dozen people. You start collecting everything, but the room has become a moving target. You jury-rig a little shelf and start laying out the ingredients, but the moment your back is turned, one of these “friends” has tried rolling the hops into a joint. The carboy is suddenly full of pennies. The room shrinks. You’re elbow-to-elbow. It’s hard to breathe. The room fills with smoke. There’s a knock at the door.