The Pint that Never Empties
No one knows exactly when Dave started haunting The Hollow Tap but ask any local and they'll tell you he’s been there longer than the wallpaper. With sunglasses always perched on his ghostly head, a cross-body bag slung with purpose, and a full pint in hand, Dave isn’t your average Specter—he’s a Ghost Dad. Not the scary kind, mind you. The kind who loves a laugh, tells terrible jokes, and somehow always finds your lost sock.
In life, Dave was a beloved dad, a dedicated pub-goer, and the undefeated champion of Sunday night karaoke. He worked hard during the week—fixing boilers, rewiring plugs, and being the go-to guy for dodgy garden fences—but come Friday night, he was first through the door of The Hollow Tap. Everyone knew his order: one pint of golden ale, a packet of pork scratchings, and a cheesy pun to go with it.
His family adored him. He was the kind of dad who showed up to every school play, even the dreadful ones, and somehow managed to laugh louder than anyone else. He taught his kids how to ride bikes, cook proper roast potatoes, and give a solid handshake. He had a talent for making the mundane magical: car rides turned into singalongs, rain became an excuse for indoor picnics, and bedtime was never complete without a ghost story that somehow always featured a hero suspiciously like Dave.
When he passed suddenly—far too soon—the town mourned. His mates gathered at The Hollow Tap to honour him with a proper send-off. They raised their pints and prepared to toast... only to find the pint they'd poured for him mysteriously full again. They passed it around, and still, it didn’t empty. Laughter turned to quiet awe, then back to laughter when someone swore, they heard, "That one’s on me, lads," floating just above the jukebox.
Since then, Dave’s been a regular at The Hollow Tap—a ghostly figure who appears when the pint flows, especially on Father's Day. He doesn’t spook. He supports. He might give you a firm nod if you’re treating your old man right or offer a spectral sigh if you’re being a bit of a disappointment. He’s particularly fond of new dads, giving them encouraging toasts and making sure their drinks stay mysteriously topped up.
Locals say he’ll even settle a pub quiz debate if things get too heated. Once, when the question "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" led to a heated argument, the lights flickered, and the answer popped up on the pub’s chalkboard: "Ask your mum."
Dave’s become part of the pub’s soul. He’s the reason there’s always one perfectly poured pint left at the end of the night. Newcomers don’t know to leave it be, but regulars always stop them: “That’s Dave’s. Trust me, you don’t want to nick his pint.”
It’s not that he’s angry. Just... disappointed.
He’s seen slipping out the corner of your eye, checking the head on your pint or making sure the jukebox is set to something halfway decent. If you ever hear the low hum of “Don’t Stop Believing’” from nowhere, that’s him warming up.
One Father’s Day, a little girl drew a picture of her dad and left it by the bar with a note: “I miss you.” The next morning, the drawing was framed behind the bar with a tiny pint glass charm stuck in the corner. No one confessed to doing it, and when asked, the bartender just said, “Dave’s got a soft spot for kids.”
Even the landlord swears the taps run smoother when Dave’s around, and that the till always seems to come out even—even when the maths say otherwise.
He’s been spotted at other pubs too, now and then. There are tales of a chilled pint appearing on tables at just the right moment, of jukeboxes turning on unprompted, of forgotten umbrellas reappearing by the door. All signs of the roaming Ghost Dad. But no matter where he wanders, he always returns to The Hollow Tap. That’s home.
So next time you’re in your local, raise a pint to the ghost with the most. You might just feel a chill on your shoulder, hear the clink of an invisible toast, and taste the best beer you’ve ever had.
Because Dave’s still here, still proud, and still buying the next round.
