As Mistress Pushmipullu turns up little Ricky on the jukebox, she realizes "Damn, the cheerios..I knew I forgot something! Sorry Rob, have some more coffee?"

She winds back through some folks trying to force their way into the kitchen (where's MMario with the keys?) and past the translucent scarves and hypnotic sway of Safira Yasmeen herself. How did we get so lucky?

She returns to her barstool just as Dishevelled'n'Dubious enters the tavern. The golden velour lounge pillow in the nightclub of her heart, tassles and all. She winced slightly as he reached into his overcoat, the deja vu of the Cygnus Loop from the last exploding supernova to grace the tavern haunting her, she shakily accepts the package he offers.

"Heron Go Braugh?", she thinks. She's seen the discovery channel, herons go braugh-less. She then remembers the sage words her nana told her about not eating anything that's been in someone's armpit, it went something like "Don't eat anything that's been in someone's armpit.", and she set the quivering marshmellow-studded unmentionable in the pie case as she went in search of the Newcastle Brown.

~Mlle Pullu