“Jeeeez. Could I have said, hmm, *3:30*?” gurgles a drunk Briney, struggling to recall the actual time he assigned for a rendezvous with Axis and Gwin. “Nah, I’m sure it was (*burb*) 4:30. Time for another drinkie poo or two, then. Bel-ievve I’ll try that Mole Juice Sur- (*burb*) Sur-prise next, hehehe.”
“Fish (*slurp*). So maa-ny fish at this damned lake.”
Sunklands 