Don't you just hate it when that happens, Captain Morgan?

I was in the backyard Tuesday afternoon when a very angry and agitated man started shouting and swearing up a storm nearby. I couldn't see him from my vantage point, but I could track his progress as he walked down the street, thanks to the cavalcade of F-bombs. 

A few minutes later, I discovered the source of his outrage. While walking one of our dogs up the street, I found a shattered liquor bottle on the sidewalk. The size of the stain suggested that it was full -- or close to it -- when Captain F-bomb dropped it, probably minutes after he bought it at the supermarket nearby. The only thing that survived intact was the label.