Beneath the canopy of eldritch trees, where the shadows dance in the flickering light of forgotten stars, Phor weaves his delightful mischief. His laughter echoes through the tangled underbrush, a cacophony entwined with the rustle of leaves that seem to sigh with both delight and dread.

His dominion, the green abyss, is a realm where golfers tread with trembling hands and anxious hearts, for none can escape the whimsical horrors he unleashes. The duck-hooks twist like serpents in the grass, erupting from well-aimed swings, while the banana slices curl in eerie homage to their creator, veering ominously towards the wilderness beyond.

And then, the shank—oh, the shank! A cruel and unexpected betrayal, it sends the ball plunging into the infinite, an offering to the darkness lurking just beyond the fringe. In the quiet moments, those left behind on the fairway can almost hear his murmurs, a reminder that in the game of golf, as in all things, one should tread carefully, lest they invoke the ire of Phor, the architect of misfortune and mirth entwined.

And so, we offer this Sour IPA, teeming with strawberry and key lime, in hopes that Phor turns his gaze away from you the next time you challenge the golf gods, be it in the sweltering heat of a South Carolina summer or in the grip of a cool gaming controller.