This week we have a brand new cocktail. One that to my knowledge only two people in the universe have drunk.
There are plants in the universe which grow so fast you can hear the creaking of their cells expanding. We get a few on Buber. The farmers often massacre yards of a purple vine with leaves the size of dinner plates. Someone must have brought it from who knows where a decade ago, and we cannot kill the damn things off.
A group of Butter Mice visited last night. They always wear their uniform, even when ‘off duty.’ As the old joke goes, their uniform is yellow so they don’t shoot each other, and there isn’t much chance of missing them in here. I always give them discount drinks. They always cluster in the booths. They always sing. They always drink too much.