A Hoppy Ending
CONTENT WARNING: Gross
We’re at a pub for my friend’s eighteenth birthday.
Me: “Congrats on being able to order your first pint!”
Friend: “Yeah, but I hate beer. It tastes so gross. I’ll order a cider or something.”
Me: “When did you last have beer?”
Friend: “Years ago, when I was a kid. I snuck a swig from my dad’s can, and it was so bad it put me off forever.”
Me: “How old were you?”
Friend: “Maybe five? Six?”
Me: “That’s so long ago! Here, have a sip of mine. Your taste buds might have changed.”
He has a sip of my Belgian white beer and his eyes alight.
Friend: “Wow, that’s really nice, actually!”
Me: “Told you!”
Friend: “I wonder why my dad’s tasted so bad. Maybe a different kind of beer?”
Me: “Yeah. Also, our taste buds change over time…”
My friend later asked his dad what kind of beer he drank growing up. After explaining why, he was asking and recounting the experience, they realised what he had snuck a sip of wasn’t beer. His dad had finished his can already and was using it as an ashtray, so instead my friend got dregs of beer with infused cigarette ash pouring down his throat.
