I make a leap of imagination and faith when I say: there is a different drink for every stage of the Dewey Summer. The leap of imagination assumes anyone else in Dewey embeds a dramatic arc into their drinking life; the leap of faith assumes they would drink anything other than what’s on special.

It’s late August: hurricane waves at the beach, back-to-school specials at Wal Mart and occasion for one last heroic bender in Dewey. How are you ending your summer, and what drink should be sweating in your hand? Hit the jump.

Humor me, and sort yourself into one of these categories:

A. The Multipurpose Partier: Hey, you didn’t come here with an agenda – you came to have fun. The What you’re drinking is most often determined by what’s on tap, or what’s on special.

B. The Deep Roller: Damn that recession – you just had to give up the timeshare on Block Island. While you’re slumming it in Dewey, you’re sure to specify that you want Ketel in that vodka-and-tonic, and Patron, please, for those tequila shots. Drinks are on you.

C. The Liberal Arts Debaucher: The unspoken addition to any beverage is a twist of sarcasm. Your drinks oscillate between the austere – double Turkey, yes, I said Turkey, as in bourbon, you have that here? – to the ironic – I’ll have your finest Bud Select, please. You think of Faulkner when you drink brown liquor, and Greene (or any Brit author, for that matter) when you drink gin. When “Sex on Fire” comes on, you just roll your eyes. You liked Kings of Leon when they were cool.

D: The Beer Snob: Dogfish Head is just 10 miles up the road, and damn it, you didn’t come here to drink Coors. You rattle down your list of preferred craft beers, starting with Anchor Steam and ending with Magic Hat No. 9. You don’t settle for an “import” actually brewed and bottled in Chicago – you find another bar.

E: The Drinker: Is it over 5 percent alcohol-by-volume? Does it come in a cup? If the answer is ‘yes’ to one of the two, it goes down your throat.

Assumption No. 2: Different drinks correspond to different months of the summer, depending on weather and/or individual dramatic arcs. Types A and E may drink whatever, whenever, but type C may save the martini for later in the summer, when he may need something to steel his English-major heart against the reality of unemployment. Still with me? Sigh. Let’s proceed.

June
First blush of summer. Optimism abounds.
A. Rum-and-Coke (rum: rail)
B. Vodka-and-tonic (vodka: Ketel. Don’t believe the Grey Goose hype)
C. Gin-and-tonic (gins 1, 2, 3: Tanquray. 3, 4, 5: rail)
D. Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA
E: Bud Light

July
Juices heated to roiling. Try to keep up.
A. Corona Extra
B. Ketel-and-Red Bull
C. Whiskey, straight (whiskey: Jack, or whatever. Sub in Wild Turkey for bad nights)
D. Bells Two-Hearted Ale (What? I said Bells. Never mind. Ever hear of Anchor Steam?)
E. Bud Light

August
Torpor. Malaise. Fear and loathing and hangovers. Everything is sticky.
A. Nothing (you’re gone – back to your family, back to your job, back to school. You got out while the getting was good)
B. Patron, straight (shots, bought for pretty girls who already know you’re not to be trusted)
C. Martini (“Fine,” you tell the bartenders . “Tell you what. Just give me cold gin in a glass.”)
D. Dogfish Head Shelter Pale Ale (it’s the only other one they have)
E. Bud Light