The Six-Pack Kid

When it comes to drinking buddies, they don't come any more gung-ho than Clay Henry of Lajitas, Texas (pop. 55). You might say that Clay's love of the brew has made him the town celebrity. Tourists come by daily to offer him a cool one--or two. Henry ambles over, props himself on the wire fence, grabs the bottle or can of beer between his teeth, and tips the thing over until it is empty. By day's end, his yard is littered with empties. "You wouldn't believe how fast the cans build up," says a worker at the Trading Post, a general store near Big Bend National Park in West Texas, where Henry lives. In fact, every two weeks or so, a couple of the guys come around to clear the place out. But only in the afternoon: after a hard day's beer guzzling (favorite brand: Miller), Henry has a tough time with the morning after. Says a friend: "It's best you avoid Clay when he's hung over. You go in at your own risk. He butts his head against the fence so hard sometimes that we have to go out and calm him down." Usually, that is enough to sober up Clay Henry, a 130-lb. black mountain goat.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.