The somewhat blasted bodhran player (is there any other kind) wanders around the pub, downing leftover dregs of stale beer (except for the nasty back stuff...every drunk has his limits). He smells the guacamoli (smashed over-ripe avocados with a little lemon added) and the freshly roasted Hatch green chilies and wanders over towards where Susan A-R is sitting. She offers him a Bohemia and he accepts with gratitude...slugging it down with one gulp, he slides slowly under the table...