Geez, it's like a bad penny, thinks Sage. There's just no way to completely remove that damned jello pit.

Leaning over the bar, Sage reaches out and pushes the other red button, the one that controls the operation of the harness (remember that?) that Moonglow attached to the very large christmas tree when she set it up. The tree begins to rise once again. In the strange mathematical world of levers, pulleys, counterweights and reverse-trebuchets, the tree levitates, is momentarily horizontal, then the butt of the tree moves up into the dark upper regions of the tavern, the tip is down, and the ornaments ring out at the motion. Cats can be seen moving along the beams, and stepping onto the slowly moving tree. Three very large swans, now barely discernable in the intersection of two beams, move themselves over and flutter (only as very large swans can), with a backdraft that moves all of the paper napkins below into a faux-dust-devil of sorts.

Ratchetted into place, the balance is perfect, and at that moment a pale yellow butterfly drifts in from the Oz door and alights on the uppermost branch. Less than a gram, this is enough to set the tree creaking into motion, and with a sudden SPLAT!! the tree smacks the jello pit pod plumb into the porch yard under a galvenized lean-to where it lodges bottom side down and continues to expand and take shape. Within moments, as when one successfully lobs a live grenade out of the building into which it was thrown, the assembled crowd (and ESPECIALLY those in the hot tub) breathe a collective sigh of relief as they watch the adored/maligned pit plant itself.

One of the swans sets up an agitated scolding and hissing and settles on the edge of the newly-formed jello ammenity, and the Mudcat group is heard to say (altogether now) "ah, now it has a pit to hiss in!"