Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The last swig of beer

An ice-cold beer is the perfect complement to so many things: fish and chips, polish sausage, my left hand. Couple my thirst for a cold one with slow service and my miserly nature, and you’ll find me drinking every last drop from the bottle.

This is a problem.

The last swig of beer is always, without fail, a disappointment, a letdown akin to Hayden Christensen skulking around as an emo Anakin Skywalker or Molly Ringwald showing up in a pink potato sack to prom at the end of Pretty in Pink. It’s warm—you could heat a room with it. It’s flat, like a soda that’s been sitting on the counter for three days. And it’s sour…like backwash. That last ill-advised sip leaves your mouth tasting faintly of hurl. In other words, it’s puke-flavored broth. I don’t know about you, but this isn’t the taste I want left in my mouth at the end of the night. Um, you know what I mean.

This afterwaste is going to get an afterlife. Being thrifty and shit, I’m pouring the dregs of every last bottle and can of PBR/MGD/IPA/BFD into a vat and repurposing this pukewarm swill to make bread or shampoo. Flat beer may bring me down, but damn if it doesn't fluff up my hair.



Tommy said...

You thought you were supposed to drink the last swig?

It's for putting out your cigarette butts. I'm sorry. Someone should have told you sooner.

Accidental Olympian said...

"puke-flavored broth"

So true I almost threw up in my mouth a little there...

Sarah said...

I always save that little treasure for the hubby, nice wife huh?

Austin said...

Clearly you drink too slowly.

Chris said...

I'm with Austin. chug that thing down. Better yet, drink gin. it kills all the pukey stuff.