Holy water? I thought you said "fire water."That wasn't holy water, Haggis.
Then, I guess it depends on your point of view.
Suddenly Haggis walked in.It was a quiet night in the cabaret, but the lingering stench of battery acid and bunny droppings hung in the air. Jay and the other pole dancers were gathered around the television watching the Oscars as I took a seat at the bar. None of them noticed me, which wasn't unusual. I ordered a beer, draft not bottled, and waited. It was too quiet. Something bad was going to happen. I could feel it in my bones...
Suddenly Haggis walked in.
"What is it with those NASCAR peeps and why haven't they learned how to turn right?" he asked.
With that he leapt onto the bar, thence onto the back bar where he dislodged a bottle of Lagavulen and swallowed it whole.
Fortunately for the Chihuahua, he was undead, having already expired from a similar event in the late 1800s. Then again in the 1920s. Then there was that explosion in the 40s. Well, you get the idea.It's not often one encounters a talking dog that enjoys a fine scotch whiskey. A sane person might question the validity pf such a creature or wonder if there was something slipped into their own drink when they weren't looking. It happens in places like this.
The only question that entered my mind was how painful would that bottle feel when it passed through the chihuahua's ass tomorrow morning.
Fortunately for the Chihuahua, he was undead, having already expired from a similar event in the late 1800s. Then again in the 1920s. Then there was that explosion in the 40s. Well, you get the idea.
And it would improve even more, thought the Chihuahua, when the blood from his freshly severed head joined the puke on his shoes.Indeed, I did. I staggered towards the Men's room, hoping I wouldn't spew all over my shoes before I got there. I didn't quite make it. Luckily, the floor apparently hadn't been cleaned in weeks. I felt better and I noticed the smell in the room had improved.
As the bottle shaped chihuahua rolled from the bar and shattered on the floor, Del staggered in having spent the majority of his pay check at the taco stand across the street. As he walked past the service window for the kitchen he belched cyan pepper and was ignited by the open flame grill. He sat at the bar.
"When did you start smoking, Del?" ask RT as he drained the end of his draft and ordered another on cray's American Express card.
"Just recently." replied Del as he patted out the smoldering embers. "Five bucks says Haggis can't get up for another three minutes."
"I'll take that bet." RT high fived Del to seal the deal. About that time Haggis chinkled erect, broken glass clanking muffled from inside.
Del looked shocked. "You guys set that up."
"Pay up birdie." RT cackled quietly. Del handed RT the IOU he had won from him the prior evening.
And it would improve even more, thought the Chihuahua, when the blood from his freshly severed head joined the puke on his shoes.
I pocketed the IOU, wondering when Del would notice the steaming pile of vomit near the restroom door. I knew it wouldn't take long, no seagull can pass up a free buffet meal.
...which was enough to make the Chihuahua puke.Del noticed the aroma coming from the door to the head. "Pffff, like I'm going to fall for that again. The food in this place is bad enough the first time around...the leftovers are enough to make a seagull puke." He ordered a house whiskey.