Goldensocks and the Three Beers

Here is this weekend's prompt from the Trfiecta Writing Challenge:
We want you to give us a re-telling of the classic Goldilocks and the Three Bears story. You can change the setting, the characters, and whatever details you wish, but the story should still be recognizable to us. Keep the spirit of the original work, but make it your own. And for once? You have no word limit.
So here's a little something I came up with while half-hammered on the very subject matter of the story itself:

Goldensocks and The Three Beers

"Dude, you seriously need to consider doing a load of laundry."
"What?" It seemed a Herculean effort for Brian to turn his head and ask that one-word question.
"I mean, what color are your socks, even?"
Warren, slumped in an adjacent bean-bag chair offered his opinion, "They seem… you know that color when people say their eyes are 'hazel' and yet there is no such color?"
"Right, exactly," Jay continued, "Yet there is a golden sheen to them… my God. Gonna call you Goldensocks. Until you splurge for some Tide. Our own James Bond villain…"
"But without the babes," Warren threw in.
Brian flipped the remote in his right hand with the skill of an Olympic baton-twirler, suddenly launching himself from the dilapidated couch, toward the fridge.
"Yo! I may not know shit about hygiene, but there's a few things I do know."

He returned, shielding several drinking glasses and cans of beer in his arms. "Turn around, the both of you."
Warren and Jay did so, not before exchanging troubled glances.
The snap of cans opening and the sound of much pouring. Empties crumpled and tossed.
"OK. Turn toward me."
There before them were three freezer-frosted mugs of beer.
"Give it a go, you dicks. I can tell you ahead of time which beer you will choose as the best of these three."
He leaned back with his hands behind his head, hazel socks on the coffee table.
While they sipped and gulped away at all three mugs, Brian wrote a few words on a sheet of paper and held it to his chest.
Jay said, "The first one's just too skunky. Too much aftertaste."
Warren was wincing, "Agreed. And the third one's a Bud, I just know it. Too watery."
All six eyes on the middle beer, Brian broke the silence by flipping around the paper he held, which read -- The second one. Sapporo.
"Made in Japan, no less. Is that wicked or what?" he bellowed.
"Please tell me you have a few more of those in the ol' icebox?" Jay high-fived him.
"Hey, one more thing," Warren said, as Brian made his way back to the fridge…. "Umm, someone's deodorant is not working around here!"
"Can't be mine," Brian said, "I don't wear any!"
******