and stands just inside the door, letting the feel of the place seep into me. It felt vaguely like a place I used to love, a place that didn't exist anymore except in some folks minds and a few old stories. A place where war stories were told and became legends in the minds of the tellers, and ecstasys of wit and word to all others that had an ear to hear. This is a good place.
After checking out some of the Clubs patrons I could swear I'd seen some of them before. That wasn't Airmigan clipping all those wires to the back of a stack of hardware but it COULD have been, in another time, another place. That wasn't the Duck mumbling into his scotch but the arm throwing and animated way of talking was similar. (the moggster? nah, no plaid!) In short, these folks looked like old friends become new. I was glad I'd found the place and grinned hugely as I walked over and ordered a glass of Turkey from the barkeep.
There was only one problem I thought as I turned around and faced the crowd. "I just want all of you to know this, it's short and sweet. It's about that rather large fellow hulking over in the corner there," I said. Then I shouted, "WESTY MUST DIE!" and grinned again, hoping most would get the joke.
Tex the Wunder Equine
