Tiki B found a genuine love for crafted double IPAs when he spent time in North America. However, after a few years, he noticed that his tiki-physique started to change. The wooden fibers of his belly started to expand from the extra moisture. However, this hasn’t yet stopped him from drinking every IPA he can get his hands on. Whenever an individual insists on going for a drink, he stops whatever he is doing and follows him/her to a hipster pub or hole in the wall that they lure him to. The humans, finding it amusing that a tikiman can drink, often buy him countless rounds, sticking a tiny paper umbrella in the top, and laughing at his perplexed look. Besides his waistline getting in trouble, Charles, the bird, often finds his weakness for craft beer a perfect opportunity to poop on him. His nemesis will often wait until he stumbles out of the brewery or bar, unaware and tipsy. . . choosing that moment to poop on his head. The next morning, Tiki B will often realize that if he just didn’t drink that night he would finally be able to vanquish the bird. He always vows to himself that he will only have “just one” the next night.