I think it has something to do with all those besotten women in the Women's Song Circle. They must be on their tenth round of drinks by now, and the server just can't handle all that liquor.
Reminds me of my brother's neighborhood in West Linn, Oregon. On Sunday afternoons, the men gather in the neighborhood pub and drink beer and watch football. The women gather in somebody's house and drink Black Russians and talk about intellectual stuff. At the end of the afternoon, the men walk home. By that time, the women can't walk.
By the way, do you think we should explain to Shey that mudcats have fins, not fur? Or do they have both?
-Joe Offer-