“Last call for alcohol”, yells the barman as I gaze upon the vast brown bottle forest set atop this rickety bar plateau. I raise to head in his general direction for another and BOOM- BANG -ZOOM! I hear a thunderous crash, spin to see the forest has fallen and transformed in to a massive cascading log roll hell bent on ending this night not unlike some shit crazed Lemming…
…My thoughts direct me immediately to assume that this mysterious event , much as what must have been witnessed in the wilds of Tunguska in 1908, must be the act of some other worldly forces. To my dismay, the ever vigilant door man has witnessed a much lessor drunken idiot catch the edge of the world with his embossed western belt which reads- “Andy”. Thus, even before the second bottle has broke the surly bonds of Earth, “Andy’s” ass is politely tossed to the curb.
I arise and am greeted by the knight perched upon what appears to be a chariot of fire. “Where to”, the refrain from high above queries?
“Must make last call somewhere”, is all that can be mustered out of my befuddled soul.
“Well, hop on, lemme see what I can do”, pronounces the knight.
