He pulls his black/purple/blue Sporty shaker special into the parking lot and unlimbers himself from the bike. Bedecked in black leather from his head to his foot with just the bridge of his nose showing under the mirrored sunglasses, he looks like nothing more than a snowman made out of coal, with just a bit of snow for a nose. Tho if there were anyplace where is snowman of that sort would be built, this place is it.

Surveying the various vehicles to find out whos beat him to the festivities, he sees a bunch of escapees from the local mental institution wrassling their way out of the fence at the far side of the parking lot. Wait a minute - that's just Spaw and that bunch of sideshow freaks he likes to hang out with. What'd they do - lose a fight with a tree? The santa suit is cute, but I've never seen anyone wear the beard in that position before. Unless it's supposed to be a flatulence muffler?

Having endangered too many braincells by pondering that mess, he moves on in through the front door, where the fire has heated the room very well, but also brought out the smell of the animals and stale beer as well as spices, herbs, and liquor. The air is so thick with aromas at to be tangible. Scanning the room, he sees a couple pipers, a lady dancing, or at least dressed to dance, but thankfully no bodhrans yet. And is that the sound of someone playing pool in the back? Who would come into this place and waste time playing pool? Besides, no one had used the pool table since the time the Reg boys were having that contest of who could put the most pool balls in their mouths, and we came up six short at the end of the night.

Survey complete, it's time for inventory. Hmmm. No drummers drumming, but we do have a couple pipers anyway. And from the looks of Spaw's troupe, we've got the 10 lords leaping. Ok, maybe 8. Well, 6 anyway. And they're not really lords but they were at least leaping. Or stumbling anyway. Hell, give 'em the benefit of the doubt - they need all the help they can get. And at least this year Spaw wasn't busted for offering anyone a peek at his candy cane. Okay, where were we? Oh yeah, nine ladies dancing. Hmm. I wonder if I can get a contra going in this place? Or maybe a waltz anyway. I don't know about the milk maids, tho I'm glad Spaw's not here to hear that. Gods know what kind of place he'd send me to. Fresh out of swans too. What kind of holiday place is this?

How about geese then? A quick peek in the kitchen. Ah, yes. There's that time travelling fellow (I wish he'd make up his mind, first a historian, then a song collector, then a singer, now a cook?) with six geese a laying. Laying out on silver platters anyway, on a nice bed of, is that kale? The golden rings I've been hearing since I walked into the place. Too many talented musicians not to hear some wonderful ringing. Let's see, four, three, two? Aw, who needs all those damn birds, anyway? All they do is make a mess. Besides, a flaming kestrel in the hand is worth a couple hours in the emergency room, or something like that.

Well, the party's young. I'll give 'em a bit more time before....

AAugh! What happened to the jello pit? All that lovely green jello is red? Did someone bleed to death from wrestling?
What's that? Seasonal cranberry? Oh, okay. Phew, I was worried for a minute that someone might be missing this year. Hell, they could have gone half and half for some real seasonal colors.

Go get myself a mug of hot cider to take the bite out of the chill, and sit back in a corner to listen and observe.