“Why is the Bartender Wearing a Smurf Mask?”
flair for the outrageous- routine handling at the post office
- Now you know.
- a maze of twisty little urine puddles
- diamond-scented bubbles
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“Why is the bartender wearing a smurf mask?” I asked.
“One must have a flair for the outrageous to work in my speakeasy,” Fleur explained, as if to a child. “Nothing about this enterprise is normal. It’s clandestine! Procuring quality eggnog is not as easy as assuring your letter gets routine handling at the post office by simply affixing a rodent pelt to the corner. It requires finesse and connections and a penchant for the dramatic.”
“Rodent pelts? I guess that explains why my letters never get delivered.”
“Now you know.”
As Fleur filled a mug for herself from the nozzle, I noticed something else about the smurf-masked man on the floor. “I think there’s something wrong with him,” I said. “See all the pee?” The man was in the middle of a maze of twisty little urine puddles, all frozen to the icy floor. All the eggnog I’d ingested had filled my brain with diamond-scented bubbles, and I was pretty sure I was still officially stupid. Perhaps this was all normal? Or… “You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”
bonus points for using them in order