If Lithe KT is gonna make the scene, the Handsome Stranger, in his long black duster and slouch hat, will not be far behind. The deep basso rumble of a '39 Indian is heard approaching from over the horizon, and the sound of flying gravel and a sliding stop is heard outside the batwing doors.

He stands in the entry, tall as winter pine and broad as history, his Martin dreadnought slung over his shoulder, and you can tell he's happy today, on account of the bugs on his teeth.

"Merry Christmas, ever'body!"

He moves gracefully to the bar and orders a Guinness.