Party night....hmmm...the perfect party night....

A traveler coming up the road would only know of it's exhistance by the soft glow of light coming from the trees surrounding the tavern. They might catch smells dancing on the breeze, alternating whiffs of SusanAR's delightful cooking and greenish clouds of partially digested vegemite...

Intrigued, they further up the path. Feet crunching on gravel in time to the music they now hear. A curly headed woman is on the porch, wearing nothing but white socks, a banjo, and a smile. Her fingers travel lightly, hardly a neophyte, her music delights all on the wooden boards, and incites her listeners to the dance.

The dog door of the tavern swings constantly. Dogs, cats, possum, (and a moose?) use the trees as their playground, then return to the tavern for warm laps to curl up in.

The traveler would peek in the windows to see the curiosities held within. Along the wall, the worn bar offers a variety of delights. In the center of the bar rests a small lighted shrine rejoicing in the credit card that is Bert's....

The traveler enters, tripping over a pile of warm fuzzies that was left close to the door. A warm Hespearian voice tells him to "Take two, they're small" and he does...and with one fuzzy under each arm he promises a game of euchre before the night is over.

The volume on the big screen television is turned off. A small group watches a baseball game. Music as a metaphor for life, this game is a metaphor for the tavern, since most of these people are on their firsts, seconds, and thirds by the looks of it. Inbetween plays, the patriarchal Rick is quizzing the lot of them and grinning like a Sugar Dog.

The traveler slides on offal from the jello pit, and accidentally walks into the Brassieriatorium before finding his own cozy spot to watch the proceedings.

One small corner of the tavern holds a group of renegades, debating the creative genius of an ex-Monkee. A Mousetheif plays "Some of Shelley's Blues" on the jukebox.

The European contingent is holding a certain Bron hostage, snogging wildly, and regaling the others with pictures and tales of Llanstock past, and plans for Llanstocks future.

In an area piled with pillows, fluffy sofas, and reading lights a red-headed woman is consoling a love-lorn young man. The woman gives the young man a hug before curling up on a sofa with the Moose and the Professor to dream up a fabulous tale. The Sugar Dog curls up on her lap for a while before chasing the possum out the door.

The tavern tonight holds all of this and more.....