That Fireball Whiskey Whispers Temptations in my Ear

This morning while walking to Andrew Station I'm walking behind a guy in his mid-twenties wearing jeans, a flannel, and Irish Setter boots. I'm going to safely say we were both on our way to work. As we walk along his phone rings and this is what he says:

"Yea, he drank a bottle of Fireball before the first pitch so he's probably dead."

That was the entirety of the conversation. The guy is right, his poor friend and co-worker is probably dead, but he had one hell of a hump day evening!