The Monks

The monks scurry around in a dark basement of stone furiously brewing beer, enough to quench the villagers. Morris steps on Fredo'a robe, causing him to trip and fall, spilling beer samples across the cold, gray floor.
Unholy cursing ensues. The monks are on edge. Their deadline is near. Already citizens gather outside, shouting. We need our beer. Where is our beer? The fragile monks cease tussling. Let's hug it out, Gregory proposes.
As vital as the brewing is, Allen, head monk, has kept perspective.
What are we next to rocks and mountains?
There is silence.
And what is beer to The Immortals? Frank asks.
Frank is told to shut up and brew.