Liquid Lunch

So many gold bricks. And lemon slices. I didn’t write that thing, but damn I read it all. Probably accounts for my universal knowledge. Experience can go suck it.

I don’t know where Womble brought us, but I hope it isn’t a pub crawl cos here is marvellous. There’s drinks from anyone, anywhere, any when…no no Womble, I’ll get this round.

What was I…marvellous, yeah. Like five hundred of the best pubs shoved into one. Multiple grades of sawdust. Loads of juke boxes playing at once. And always one guy who stands over your shoulder at the quiz machine. It’s all some big dimensional orgy thingy. Tec-technical term that. Where are the timeless peanuts? Hah, timeless. Good times.

I have questions. Or I had questions. There’s always something. When every star fades and creation packs up and leaves, there’ll still be an upside-down hook with a dot under it.

Like why is Womble all differently armed now? Did Rapture damage my friend? And where are the 500 different barmaids? One or two more drinks and I’m going to end up flirting with someone. The table tastes nice though, my last drink tasted similar before it fell over. Womble’s saved the last one from me for a while.

He looks happy. And very smart. He also borrowed my top hat to stop me alcoholing it. He needs a thing like that, a…wasathing…a feature. A water feature. No, no. We’re having fun. No need for questions asking now. Just good times. No one relaxes enough anymore.

Hey, let’s try some mead. Get all classicy in here. Embrace the inner Viking.

Now then, Womble. How about a sing-song?



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