“Catchup and Mustered! Stop pestering poor, drunk little Orange Boy and get back on the counter. Break time’s over!”
“I *had* a girl,” proclaims a still wobbly Fisher, leaning against the bar counter 15 minutes later.
Here we go again, thought Missus Lemon.
“And I let her get away.” Fisher takes a gulp of his fresh golden beer and looks down. “Yellow,” he explained.
“Like me?” Lisa the Vegetarian Smipson stood like a dream in the doorway to Bar Lemon.