What is a pint? I’d say my daughter is pint-sized, but don’t tell her that. She’s big, you know. 26 pounds at age 3 IS big….
kris
Boy I regret that decision. No, I’m not an alcoholic. But I like to drink everyday. A lot. Sometimes I fantasize about ways to stretch out the allotment I’ve created for myself so I can drink more. Yes, I am one of those assholes who says I can stop any time. But I didn’t. And now there’s been a death. It wasn’t my fault! No! But there has been a death.
Beka
Roman tipped the bottle, eyeing the dark contents. “How does it go from this tiny thing–” a ShockTop in his left hand — “to an entire quart?” the Yingling in his right.
I don’t need a pint of anything to enjoy my time with you. Drinking is turning into a terrible excuse. What I need are just the stars above, the earth below, and your arms around me as the embers glow – and if you can believe it, then imagine it so.
Pain shot up her calves as she forged on through the small spaces between tables. Eight hours down, and one to go. She heard the next table before she saw it. Profanity laced with male bravado sounded like a warning siren. Four assholes, four pints. She closed her eyes briefly, and mustered her best smile.
Creamy and rich, it slides over my palate with ease and I swallow, feeling a slight burn as it passes down my throat. I look at you and ask “Well? Was it good for you?”
Valerie Markson
And so Alana suggested that they go out and each get a pint of ice cream.
“Wait, why do you need ice cream?” Sierra asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion. “Last time I checked, you weren’t having relationship problems with anyone. You don’t even want to get into a relationship. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No,” Alana said. “I just want to eat a pint of ice cream, and this is a good excuse.”
there was a pint of will left in her. she knew it was there. she could feel it—deep. deep down buried under piles of nothingness she had meticulously recruited for some time. deliberate nothingness. the kind that finds a way and fills a void with empty.
Ohara sat nursing a pint of Beamish in one of the few Irish Pubs in Niigata that carried it; he had been lucky to find it so quickly, and knew he would not be so lucky with the girl. He presumed she had come to Niigata, and was now there himself. He also presumed that she if she was on the run from the Yakuza she would want to leave Japan. He wanted to ask around the ferry port if anyone had seen her, but it had already closed for the day by the time he arrived, hence this hurriedly arranged strategy session.
tonykeyesjapan
‘A pint of beer’ I heard a husky voice behind me.
I turned around to see the exact opposite of what I was expecting.
I saw a clean shaven man in business attire, with eyes that roared courage.
He didn’t look like a person who belonged in a suit and tie.
One pint of milk is too much but one pint of beer is too little. Everything is relative and the pint has no excuse to be exempted.
Anitha
I picked up a pint of milk from the fridge, and just by the sour odor I didn’t have to bother tasting it to knew that at seven in the morning I was either going to have milk less coffee and cereal, or walk to Tesco.
With only the dregs of her last pint remaining, she left it where it sat and stood on – mostly – steady legs, her eyes fixed on the stairs. Unable to deny the siren’s song of her bed any longer, she moved toward them, offering the barkeep a nod as she passed.
Ah a pint..a pint of beer. I think i have had enough of those. The initial buzz is gone and i am now crashing inside myself. Down down down i go. I feel like a piece of lead, been carved out of it and now i am drowning.
Anu
It was just a pint of water with just a few crumpled pieces of a plant and look at what it had done. He smiled down at his brother, his cousin, his potential king, and watched as he breathed his last.
Seth
We shared a drink, each of us sipping from a different side of the pint glass. When I lifted the glass to my mouth, I inspected the imprint of his lips left on the rims: small, scabby flecks of skin, residue leftover from his Chapstick. I imagined how those lips would feel against mine.
They would be soft, and fierce, and would linger with a hunger.
They would taste like beer and intoxicate me just the same.
Und wenn ich ihn treffe, werde ich ihm meine Meinung sagen, das kannste aber glauben! Wow. Ich hatte Mark noch nie so… lebendig erlebt. Vielleicht war es gar keine so schlechte Idee, hinter seinem Rücken Intrigen zu planen.
I don’t now the number, i could never remember. some 16 some 8 some 2 some 32. it could never find a place in my mind. i only knew it was small. but at least it had a name.
WendyDelen
Every time i looked at one, my brain was confused and my mind told me one things that my heart didn’t want. I wanted things to be different but i just knew that if i took one sip everything would be over.
Kirby-Rae Brown
Pint. A pint of ice cream. That sound delicious to me right now. Maybe some Ben’n’Jerry’s. I would like some with caramel in it. I would like a pint of ice cream with caramel and nuts. Yum! That sounds delicious!
Melissa
He tipped back the pint, finishing off the last of the foamy amber liquid and slammed the glass back down on the bar. He was thinking, “I should stop,” but heard himself order another. This was sure to be another one of those nights.
I wish I had a cold pint to drink. Frothy, under the stars. Stout-milk stout. Fire crackling, comfy chair. Good company–just him and me. Not a lot of words; just comfort, peace, happy.
Kris
He thought it was only a cup, but it was more than that, much more. He was intoxicated by eight, nine, ten pints. He was impaired and nobody could stop him. He grabbed his keys and drove away furiously. Less than seven miles into his drunken drive, he struck a vehicle and both drivers were killed immediately. The pint sized hands and feet struggled for minutes. The tiny liimbs stopped moving and all else was still.
One entire pint of ice cream used to seem like gluttony. But now, as I repeat mantras in my head about “treating myself,” a pint can slide down just as easily as before, and I replace the ugly pull of guilt at my chest with trumpets—it’s flags waving, fists pumping.
Scream from the mountaintops, “I ate a pint of ice cream and it didn’t destroy my life!” I grin as I slip the spoon into the dishwasher. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Jessica
Thanks
Michelle Berrios
There was a pint of paint one time. I wanted to finish it… ya know, hall it around everywhere, splatter it on physical items that paint wasn’t “supposed” to “be.” Drop it off the second story of my father’s expensive home…
Michelle Berrios
“The hell is a /pint/, anyway?” the teen asked, wrinkling his nose. “Is it, like, just a non-metric unit of measurement?”
The other boy sighed. “Bit more than half a litre. Y’know, ‘Ge’ me a pint o’ beer.’ ”
“A pint-size serving of outrage and anger,” they said, and smirked in such an infuriating way that Cali’s knuckles whitened even further, something that Jace hadn’t thought possible. “I could make use of something like you, little engineer.”
I finished another a pint and tried to keep good posture on my stool, watching the latest flurry of blue collar workers push their way up to the bar. One of them I recognized – A.J. Maxwell, a former high school colleague of mine who had tried out plumbing, electrician work, and auto repair before settling on construction work. I observed him as the bartender pushed him a nearly overflowing glass of IPA to him, then tipped my hat nonchalantly as he glanced in my direction.
Belinda Roddie
She clutched the pint of milk feverishly in one hand. her hands held it so tight as if the world depended on her thumb not moving. she had never stolen before. she eyed her friend gallop rambunctiously about the store. she could not move.
Caroline S
I have a pint or 4 each night but nothing can help me forget how drunk I was on the idea of you loving me
Whitney
Hold your pint,
drink it whole
and do it again;
beer and wine
that’s so divine:
forgotten and sigh.
gargouillis
halvliter. Øl. Førsteklasse videregående. Andreklasse videregående, tror jeg. Jeg vet ikke om jeg hadde trengt å lage en bruker. Jeg må skjerpe meg, lære meg å lese bedre, mer nøye.
Trem’s fingers traced slowly over the gash in her side. Pain lanced through her stomach at the touch, reminding her that she as still alive. For the moment, she didn’t feel like it. She felt weak, stumbling through the building like a child lost and alone. She cursed under her breath, trying to calculate how much blood she’d lost already.
What is a pint? I’d say my daughter is pint-sized, but don’t tell her that. She’s big, you know. 26 pounds at age 3 IS big….
Boy I regret that decision. No, I’m not an alcoholic. But I like to drink everyday. A lot. Sometimes I fantasize about ways to stretch out the allotment I’ve created for myself so I can drink more. Yes, I am one of those assholes who says I can stop any time. But I didn’t. And now there’s been a death. It wasn’t my fault! No! But there has been a death.
Roman tipped the bottle, eyeing the dark contents. “How does it go from this tiny thing–” a ShockTop in his left hand — “to an entire quart?” the Yingling in his right.
“Are you buying it or not?”
Ein Glas noch, komm schon! Hab dich doch nicht so! Was soll ein Glas denn ausmachen?
Alles, manchmal macht ein Glas alles aus.
I don’t need a pint of anything to enjoy my time with you. Drinking is turning into a terrible excuse. What I need are just the stars above, the earth below, and your arms around me as the embers glow – and if you can believe it, then imagine it so.
He sat in the dirty alleyway and lifted the pint to his lips not caring about anything but getting that last drop into his mouth.
Pain shot up her calves as she forged on through the small spaces between tables. Eight hours down, and one to go. She heard the next table before she saw it. Profanity laced with male bravado sounded like a warning siren. Four assholes, four pints. She closed her eyes briefly, and mustered her best smile.
Creamy and rich, it slides over my palate with ease and I swallow, feeling a slight burn as it passes down my throat. I look at you and ask “Well? Was it good for you?”
And so Alana suggested that they go out and each get a pint of ice cream.
“Wait, why do you need ice cream?” Sierra asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion. “Last time I checked, you weren’t having relationship problems with anyone. You don’t even want to get into a relationship. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No,” Alana said. “I just want to eat a pint of ice cream, and this is a good excuse.”
there was a pint of will left in her. she knew it was there. she could feel it—deep. deep down buried under piles of nothingness she had meticulously recruited for some time. deliberate nothingness. the kind that finds a way and fills a void with empty.
Ohara sat nursing a pint of Beamish in one of the few Irish Pubs in Niigata that carried it; he had been lucky to find it so quickly, and knew he would not be so lucky with the girl. He presumed she had come to Niigata, and was now there himself. He also presumed that she if she was on the run from the Yakuza she would want to leave Japan. He wanted to ask around the ferry port if anyone had seen her, but it had already closed for the day by the time he arrived, hence this hurriedly arranged strategy session.
‘A pint of beer’ I heard a husky voice behind me.
I turned around to see the exact opposite of what I was expecting.
I saw a clean shaven man in business attire, with eyes that roared courage.
He didn’t look like a person who belonged in a suit and tie.
One pint of milk is too much but one pint of beer is too little. Everything is relative and the pint has no excuse to be exempted.
I picked up a pint of milk from the fridge, and just by the sour odor I didn’t have to bother tasting it to knew that at seven in the morning I was either going to have milk less coffee and cereal, or walk to Tesco.
How many pint of blood you need to lose before you lost your conscious?
That was the last thought as the huge gash on his stomach continued staining the carpet underneath him with his own blood.
With only the dregs of her last pint remaining, she left it where it sat and stood on – mostly – steady legs, her eyes fixed on the stairs. Unable to deny the siren’s song of her bed any longer, she moved toward them, offering the barkeep a nod as she passed.
Ah a pint..a pint of beer. I think i have had enough of those. The initial buzz is gone and i am now crashing inside myself. Down down down i go. I feel like a piece of lead, been carved out of it and now i am drowning.
It was just a pint of water with just a few crumpled pieces of a plant and look at what it had done. He smiled down at his brother, his cousin, his potential king, and watched as he breathed his last.
We shared a drink, each of us sipping from a different side of the pint glass. When I lifted the glass to my mouth, I inspected the imprint of his lips left on the rims: small, scabby flecks of skin, residue leftover from his Chapstick. I imagined how those lips would feel against mine.
They would be soft, and fierce, and would linger with a hunger.
They would taste like beer and intoxicate me just the same.
Und wenn ich ihn treffe, werde ich ihm meine Meinung sagen, das kannste aber glauben! Wow. Ich hatte Mark noch nie so… lebendig erlebt. Vielleicht war es gar keine so schlechte Idee, hinter seinem Rücken Intrigen zu planen.
Pint
of ice cream
a cup
clasped
between your
hands
fingers
(cold)
keeping the water droplets
I don’t now the number, i could never remember. some 16 some 8 some 2 some 32. it could never find a place in my mind. i only knew it was small. but at least it had a name.
Every time i looked at one, my brain was confused and my mind told me one things that my heart didn’t want. I wanted things to be different but i just knew that if i took one sip everything would be over.
Pint. A pint of ice cream. That sound delicious to me right now. Maybe some Ben’n’Jerry’s. I would like some with caramel in it. I would like a pint of ice cream with caramel and nuts. Yum! That sounds delicious!
He tipped back the pint, finishing off the last of the foamy amber liquid and slammed the glass back down on the bar. He was thinking, “I should stop,” but heard himself order another. This was sure to be another one of those nights.
jkl;
I wish I had a cold pint to drink. Frothy, under the stars. Stout-milk stout. Fire crackling, comfy chair. Good company–just him and me. Not a lot of words; just comfort, peace, happy.
He thought it was only a cup, but it was more than that, much more. He was intoxicated by eight, nine, ten pints. He was impaired and nobody could stop him. He grabbed his keys and drove away furiously. Less than seven miles into his drunken drive, he struck a vehicle and both drivers were killed immediately. The pint sized hands and feet struggled for minutes. The tiny liimbs stopped moving and all else was still.
One entire pint of ice cream used to seem like gluttony. But now, as I repeat mantras in my head about “treating myself,” a pint can slide down just as easily as before, and I replace the ugly pull of guilt at my chest with trumpets—it’s flags waving, fists pumping.
Scream from the mountaintops, “I ate a pint of ice cream and it didn’t destroy my life!” I grin as I slip the spoon into the dishwasher. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Thanks
There was a pint of paint one time. I wanted to finish it… ya know, hall it around everywhere, splatter it on physical items that paint wasn’t “supposed” to “be.” Drop it off the second story of my father’s expensive home…
“The hell is a /pint/, anyway?” the teen asked, wrinkling his nose. “Is it, like, just a non-metric unit of measurement?”
The other boy sighed. “Bit more than half a litre. Y’know, ‘Ge’ me a pint o’ beer.’ ”
“I got that part.”
The flannel colored man with wooden arms drunk and drunk and drunk inside that pub. He laughed, he cried, he sat in stony aloneness.
“A pint-size serving of outrage and anger,” they said, and smirked in such an infuriating way that Cali’s knuckles whitened even further, something that Jace hadn’t thought possible. “I could make use of something like you, little engineer.”
I finished another a pint and tried to keep good posture on my stool, watching the latest flurry of blue collar workers push their way up to the bar. One of them I recognized – A.J. Maxwell, a former high school colleague of mine who had tried out plumbing, electrician work, and auto repair before settling on construction work. I observed him as the bartender pushed him a nearly overflowing glass of IPA to him, then tipped my hat nonchalantly as he glanced in my direction.
She clutched the pint of milk feverishly in one hand. her hands held it so tight as if the world depended on her thumb not moving. she had never stolen before. she eyed her friend gallop rambunctiously about the store. she could not move.
I have a pint or 4 each night but nothing can help me forget how drunk I was on the idea of you loving me
Hold your pint,
drink it whole
and do it again;
beer and wine
that’s so divine:
forgotten and sigh.
halvliter. Øl. Førsteklasse videregående. Andreklasse videregående, tror jeg. Jeg vet ikke om jeg hadde trengt å lage en bruker. Jeg må skjerpe meg, lære meg å lese bedre, mer nøye.
Trem’s fingers traced slowly over the gash in her side. Pain lanced through her stomach at the touch, reminding her that she as still alive. For the moment, she didn’t feel like it. She felt weak, stumbling through the building like a child lost and alone. She cursed under her breath, trying to calculate how much blood she’d lost already.