Luke had secretly spiked the punch — if by secretly, you mean that everyone knew. The purple concoction was popular, until everyone woke the next morning in a big naked pile with the hangover of the century.
There was still punch left. We had it with scrambled eggs and toast.
Fortified against her snide remarks
fixed in position, legs planted, eyes dodgy
She was asking for it, so I delivered the punch
Maxie
As we sit in silence I remember. I remember the first time we met, you were sitting by the punch bowl looking extremely bored. The lights were shining on your hair, the strands looked silky and it took all I had not to reach out and touch them.
“What are you doing?” Cathy asked Marcus. Their first date, though not going as planned, was a strange kind of frightening fun. She continued, “You keep vomiting koala elbows and did you see that man run through the party? He was flinging their tonsils exuberantly!”
Marcus patted her hand affectionately and said, “You drank the punch, didn’t you?”
There is no saying what he would do after the punch was thrown. How would she react to seeing this violent side of him? Would she think he was a monster? Or perhaps view him as the strong, protective man he had always hoped she would? After all, he was doing this for her.
it was then that i had realised that it was the vodka in the punch that had made me so violent. it was then that i had realised that the punch in the face wasn’t because of anything else but alcohol.
as i punched the girl in the face, it was then that i had realised that the vodka in the punch had made me violent, as vodka always does.
shoobs
As loud as the punch was, as much as it echoed off his cheek and caused his ears to burn and the blood to fill up in his mouth, as much as it seemed the world shone brightly, as if he were in the moment seeing deep into some mystery, it disappointed him. It should have been harder.
Too many flavors in the punch. His OCD was overclocked trying to identify each one while his ADD kept drawing his eyes to the clash of colors on the buffet table and his ears to the threads of conversations that assaulted his eardrums rendering him motionless at the front of the food line. Someone handed him a plate plate and plastic fork. “Go forth and conquer.”
gino
I want to punch you so hard I don’t feel bad anymore.
If the pain in your broken nose could equal the pain of my broken heart, then everything would be better again.
Unfortunately, I punch like the girl I am, and I’d probably just minorly bruise you.
Sucks to be me.
Frances
Punch. Erdbeerpuntsch. Gepantschtes Zeug. Aroma aus Schimmelpilzen. Naja, wenigstens vegan ist das Zeug. Wenn schon nicht appetittlich. Aber was soll’s. Rin damit und runtergeschluckt. Irgendwie muss es ja weitergehen.
i saw the punch bowl lying on the table. it was filled with blood. Horrified, I started backing away slowly, I just wasn’t sure how to respond. The rancid smell filled my nose.
the punch line of the snl show was that paris hilton although natuarally brunettete she turned blond and went to france to marry and have 20 kids
he punched me in my face it hurt like hell
my revenge wiil be brought upon you in the form of arm movements
Juan Lopez
He delivered a punch to the face of the chancellor. It was a well deserved punch, one that so many people had been waiting on. It was “enough” in every language, it was “screw you” in every other language…
I really want o punch something, just to find out what it feels like to have your bones break. I want to know… But I don’t want to feel the pain. Weird, huh? I’m kinda strange. I guess. Writing is not always easy.
Jessica
I don’t know what I did to make my girlfriend so angry.
Maybe it was the fancy dinner, the compliments, the diamond rings.
Her sister loved those things back when I was dating her.
Nat
I hate him, hate him- I want to hurt him.I hate feeling the anger in my veins, I hate not being to stop this. I’m sure it would stop if I could juts hurt him like h hurts me. I wish I could, I wish I was stronger…. In what way, I don’t know.
Jessica
punchmepunchu I don’t remember what this is from. Oh yeah, it’s the game that you can play in The Sims. It seems like a rather dumb game, sort of like mercy or uncle, but it involves punching your friends in the arm and hoping they like it.
i will punch you in the face a kagillion times every single day of the year whenever i want and you are there
jack daniels
so I drank from this punch bowl, everyone else was doing it. I couldnt believe the taste! it was so bitter and gross. and the next thing I knew, everyone started to drop! like dying kind of drop! it was only at this moment that I realized…everyone was wearing matching shirts and shoes too….it was a cult.
Dustin
this is the same damn word you just gave me. i’m going to punch whoever programmed the random word generator. haha, see what i did there? I incorporated the word into my angrily worded response. That’s fucking meta, right there. I’m playing with your boundaries of reality, illusion, perception, and style. And the worst part is, I didn’t even care.
Aaron
I could have punched you in the face, but that’s not in my character. Punch is something I would rather drink, or have in my sentences, making them sparkly and witty. I’m just not punchy enough.
Punch drunk love is the type of love I like best. It’s the violent happy ridiculous type, the type whose sex leaves you with bruises and scars, but feeling fulfilled and somewhat happy inside. I say somewhat because it never fills the whole void, just enough to make you realize that there was something missing but not enough to make you weak.
Aaron
Why have all the words I’ve found been violent? It seems like active verbs are common, which is good, but why not postivive ones?Our world has enough violence…we should write about peace, as that should be our ideal.
Lily
i just want to punch her in the face sometimes. for all the pain she has caused me. i punch the wall instead because it can’t yell at me. i should hang around with things that can’t yell.
Fruit punch, baby. Spiked, is all better. Blame the punch, she says, as she stumbled around and said stupid things. Funny thing about drinking: it doesn’t create a new person or new thoughts, just an off-switch for your thought filter.
Laura
The punch was red, as was the upper lip of the guy I came to the party with. My boyfriend had just punched him, and his nose bled all over the front of his shirt. His tie was ruined. I set my punch down. Somehow it didn’t look good to me anymore.
Kathy
I want to punch the wall. I have to somehow turn the emotional pain to physical, if I don’t I will surely burst from the inside out. But i know I am just mad at myself, because I know I am my own worst enemy.
K
You have put me through so muck pain. I wish I had the guts to punch you in the face. Then every time someone looked at you, they could see the pain I went through.
Hurts. Someone got punched.
Add line and you got a joke.
You drink it. Yum.
Joe
It was unexpected. The taunting was good-natured, but there comes a point when our primal senses kick in. My mind’s eye could only see his face, crunched up, black and blue, with streaks of red running down. Gripping my own hand, but ready for more. For the catharsis that only a primal release can bring.
The word jabbed me right in the gutter and for a moment I was frozen. I couldn’t move or make any face, I was just still, while inside my mind all my body was fighting with its whole strength to stay sane, with all the blood inside me boiling in uproar.
It was a punch to my gut.
Broken.
Apart.
I wanted to ask why but that would have make me have to face the fact that I was caught off guard, that I didn’t know where we stood.
It was a surpirse, the worst one in the world.
I make a delicious punch. It has oranges, strawberries, bananas, limes- all sorts of fruit.
It has a bit of alcohol in it too. Gives it a nice kick.
Great for parties.
Luke had secretly spiked the punch — if by secretly, you mean that everyone knew. The purple concoction was popular, until everyone woke the next morning in a big naked pile with the hangover of the century.
There was still punch left. We had it with scrambled eggs and toast.
Fortified against her snide remarks
fixed in position, legs planted, eyes dodgy
She was asking for it, so I delivered the punch
As we sit in silence I remember. I remember the first time we met, you were sitting by the punch bowl looking extremely bored. The lights were shining on your hair, the strands looked silky and it took all I had not to reach out and touch them.
“What are you doing?” Cathy asked Marcus. Their first date, though not going as planned, was a strange kind of frightening fun. She continued, “You keep vomiting koala elbows and did you see that man run through the party? He was flinging their tonsils exuberantly!”
Marcus patted her hand affectionately and said, “You drank the punch, didn’t you?”
There is no saying what he would do after the punch was thrown. How would she react to seeing this violent side of him? Would she think he was a monster? Or perhaps view him as the strong, protective man he had always hoped she would? After all, he was doing this for her.
we trade barbs like punches instead of admitting we love each other and making love to celebrate
it was then that i had realised that it was the vodka in the punch that had made me so violent. it was then that i had realised that the punch in the face wasn’t because of anything else but alcohol.
as i punched the girl in the face, it was then that i had realised that the vodka in the punch had made me violent, as vodka always does.
As loud as the punch was, as much as it echoed off his cheek and caused his ears to burn and the blood to fill up in his mouth, as much as it seemed the world shone brightly, as if he were in the moment seeing deep into some mystery, it disappointed him. It should have been harder.
Too many flavors in the punch. His OCD was overclocked trying to identify each one while his ADD kept drawing his eyes to the clash of colors on the buffet table and his ears to the threads of conversations that assaulted his eardrums rendering him motionless at the front of the food line. Someone handed him a plate plate and plastic fork. “Go forth and conquer.”
I want to punch you so hard I don’t feel bad anymore.
If the pain in your broken nose could equal the pain of my broken heart, then everything would be better again.
Unfortunately, I punch like the girl I am, and I’d probably just minorly bruise you.
Sucks to be me.
Punch. Erdbeerpuntsch. Gepantschtes Zeug. Aroma aus Schimmelpilzen. Naja, wenigstens vegan ist das Zeug. Wenn schon nicht appetittlich. Aber was soll’s. Rin damit und runtergeschluckt. Irgendwie muss es ja weitergehen.
i saw the punch bowl lying on the table. it was filled with blood. Horrified, I started backing away slowly, I just wasn’t sure how to respond. The rancid smell filled my nose.
efforts for target.
I pinch and I punch.
the punch line of the snl show was that paris hilton although natuarally brunettete she turned blond and went to france to marry and have 20 kids
he punched me in my face it hurt like hell
my revenge wiil be brought upon you in the form of arm movements
He delivered a punch to the face of the chancellor. It was a well deserved punch, one that so many people had been waiting on. It was “enough” in every language, it was “screw you” in every other language…
I really want o punch something, just to find out what it feels like to have your bones break. I want to know… But I don’t want to feel the pain. Weird, huh? I’m kinda strange. I guess. Writing is not always easy.
I don’t know what I did to make my girlfriend so angry.
Maybe it was the fancy dinner, the compliments, the diamond rings.
Her sister loved those things back when I was dating her.
I hate him, hate him- I want to hurt him.I hate feeling the anger in my veins, I hate not being to stop this. I’m sure it would stop if I could juts hurt him like h hurts me. I wish I could, I wish I was stronger…. In what way, I don’t know.
punchmepunchu I don’t remember what this is from. Oh yeah, it’s the game that you can play in The Sims. It seems like a rather dumb game, sort of like mercy or uncle, but it involves punching your friends in the arm and hoping they like it.
i will punch you in the face a kagillion times every single day of the year whenever i want and you are there
so I drank from this punch bowl, everyone else was doing it. I couldnt believe the taste! it was so bitter and gross. and the next thing I knew, everyone started to drop! like dying kind of drop! it was only at this moment that I realized…everyone was wearing matching shirts and shoes too….it was a cult.
this is the same damn word you just gave me. i’m going to punch whoever programmed the random word generator. haha, see what i did there? I incorporated the word into my angrily worded response. That’s fucking meta, right there. I’m playing with your boundaries of reality, illusion, perception, and style. And the worst part is, I didn’t even care.
I could have punched you in the face, but that’s not in my character. Punch is something I would rather drink, or have in my sentences, making them sparkly and witty. I’m just not punchy enough.
Punch drunk love is the type of love I like best. It’s the violent happy ridiculous type, the type whose sex leaves you with bruises and scars, but feeling fulfilled and somewhat happy inside. I say somewhat because it never fills the whole void, just enough to make you realize that there was something missing but not enough to make you weak.
Why have all the words I’ve found been violent? It seems like active verbs are common, which is good, but why not postivive ones?Our world has enough violence…we should write about peace, as that should be our ideal.
i just want to punch her in the face sometimes. for all the pain she has caused me. i punch the wall instead because it can’t yell at me. i should hang around with things that can’t yell.
Fruit punch, baby. Spiked, is all better. Blame the punch, she says, as she stumbled around and said stupid things. Funny thing about drinking: it doesn’t create a new person or new thoughts, just an off-switch for your thought filter.
The punch was red, as was the upper lip of the guy I came to the party with. My boyfriend had just punched him, and his nose bled all over the front of his shirt. His tie was ruined. I set my punch down. Somehow it didn’t look good to me anymore.
I want to punch the wall. I have to somehow turn the emotional pain to physical, if I don’t I will surely burst from the inside out. But i know I am just mad at myself, because I know I am my own worst enemy.
You have put me through so muck pain. I wish I had the guts to punch you in the face. Then every time someone looked at you, they could see the pain I went through.
I sometimes wish that I had punched you in the face. Other times I wish that I had kissed you. What a bi-polar heart I have.
Finish him
Left
Right
Left
Right
Up
Down
B
A
Start
hadouken
Hurts. Someone got punched.
Add line and you got a joke.
You drink it. Yum.
It was unexpected. The taunting was good-natured, but there comes a point when our primal senses kick in. My mind’s eye could only see his face, crunched up, black and blue, with streaks of red running down. Gripping my own hand, but ready for more. For the catharsis that only a primal release can bring.
The word jabbed me right in the gutter and for a moment I was frozen. I couldn’t move or make any face, I was just still, while inside my mind all my body was fighting with its whole strength to stay sane, with all the blood inside me boiling in uproar.
It was a punch to my gut.
Broken.
Apart.
I wanted to ask why but that would have make me have to face the fact that I was caught off guard, that I didn’t know where we stood.
It was a surpirse, the worst one in the world.
“OW!” Sarah screamed. “What the hell was that for?”
The bitch turned around and said.
“Because I wanted to”.