“Yeah, tell me I’m a bottle of single malt scotch, she thought. That’s the way to my heart.”

“After doing extensive research, I can definitely tell you that single malt whiskies are good to drink.”

“My phone is on my bed, whispering in my ear like a bottle of scotch to a recovering alcoholic, while the rain continues cackling at me through my window.”

“The cat arrived with a bottle of Scotch.”

“She exhaled curtly. ‘I’m a serryn. That’s all you see. I’m just something to be tortured, slain or sold off as a commodity. That’s hardly the most appealing of traits.’ ‘Tell your eyes that. Because you really shouldn’t look at me the way you do. No serryn has looked at me like that.”

“On the off chance my caller would tell me to quit drinking, I positioned myself on the sofa with two six-packs and a bottle of nice scotch. Then I turned on the TV and ate a sandwich made from leftover chicken lo mein. I call it a Chanwich.”