Old Tyme Ginger Beer

I woke up today knowing that I desired a ginger beer. I don't know why, but I saw it on the shelf and said to myself that I hoped this burned my throat. It's such a little bottle. I just knew that it was some sort of concentrated danger. The whole "big things come in small packages" cliche.

I took my first sip and there it was. Burn. If I had to rate the burn on some sort of made up scale, I would say that it has a medium burn. It kicks you in the tonsils but playfully, like when a dog bites you and you can feel their dog teeth but they don't chomp down, making you lose some of your precious digits.

In the case of ginger beer, most of the time I want to battle with non-playful sharks and I just want straight rusty razor blades rushing down my throat, but this is nice, too.