Welcome to the 6th floor.
Today's contributors are: Ann, Sara, Tabitha, Frank, Billy and Scott.
Subject: Together with Beer
We often get together at a nearby restaurant when we want a late night snack and/or a drink. They often have nice deals on cheap appetizers and cocktails late at night, so this appeals to the poorer of us.”
“Who'd we get today?” asks Sara as she joins the group at the table.
“My boy Clarence.” says Scott, pointing.
“Excellent. Cindy is such a ditz.”
“Now now, that's not very nice.” Clarence says as he walks up to the table.
“Are you denying that she's a ditz?” asks Frank.
“I just said it isn't nice.” says Clarence with a wink. “Actually she flew home to Ohio to visit her sister. She won't be back until next week.”
“Oh that's nice! So who's covering her shifts?” inquires Tabitha.
“Patrick. You might not know him, he only works afternoons.”
“Lets order guys, I am famished!”
We place our orders, and Clarence turns to walk away.
“Oh! And some breadsticks!”
“You ordered a Manhattan Scott? Do you even know what that is?”
“It's alcohol of some kind right? I live here and I've never had one.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy Whiskey.” says Tabitha, giggling.
“I can't believe you ordered a whole steak Billy. Didn't you just eat an hour ago?”
“What can I say? I like my meat. I passed on appetizers at least.”
“Oh? You're not going to steal any of my potato skins?”
“They do sound good..”
“They make great potato skins here. I bet they go well with whiskey.”
“You two could just order your own you know, you don't have to steal mine.”
“Where's the fun in that?”
“It's alright Sara, I won't steal your potato skins. Your French fries on the other hand..”
“I should get my own table. Either that or I should stop ordering food you guys like. Maybe I should develop a taste for snails or something.”
“Or Whiskey. Manhattans are nasty! “
Clarence arrives at the table with Scott's new drink. “Here's your beer Scotty, guess Whiskey isn't your thing.” Clarence says, winking.
“Never again. “ Takes a sip, “Mmm, beer. Wonderful beer.”
“Another Pink Squirrel Billy? I just love serving pink drinks.”
“Sure, but super-size this one. The bigger the better.”
“You got it Tiger.”
Our food arrives shortly after that. “A steak and a pink squirrel. That's such a normal order.”
“You're right. You know what else it needs?”
Billy grabs one of Sara's potato skins, dips it in his squirrel, and takes a bite. “Mmhmm, Thsisth isth grood”
“Ugh! I _should_ charge you a quarter for that!”
“Haha, he's got a piece of bacon in his drink now.”
“It's a bacon martini. It's all the rave nowadays. “
“I'd rather have a chicken parmigiana margarita myself.”
“How about a Lobster Island Ice Tea?”
“Yuck! You guys are ruining my appetite!”
“I can help with that!” Scott snatches one of Sara's potato skins and shoves it in his mouth.
“Table manners Scott! We wouldn't want you to choke!”
“Yeah, don't expect any of us to do CPR.”
“Choking is frowned upon here. People tend to tip badly when someone dies at the next table.” Clarence says as he walks over. “You've got some bacon in your Pink Squirrel Billy. What do you get when you cross a pig and squirrel?”
“I was going to say a Squig. Yours is better. Here is your check, have a good evening.”
“Wasn't a squig something from Harry Potter?”
“That's a squib. A person with no innate magical ability trying to learn magic.”
We all finish our drinks and pay the bill. 20 minutes later we're all back at the apartment doing our separate things. Frank's already got a poker game up and running, Billy and Sara are asleep for early shifts. Scott's lounging on the couch watching SportsCenter, Tabitha's in her room studying, and I'm messing around on my computer.