Scothc,

T'was my last evening at the e&r. And boy, did the fates hate me.

The grease trap over flowed. Three times. I had my arm shoulder deep in the nastiest, rankest, foulest bile of all time. I still smell the acrid, dour aroma in my septum.

But it all ended, as thing do, with love. And beer. And Chinese food at the Moon Temple. Replete with girls and mai tais and dancing and bmx bike tricks the BMX bandit never knew. And Scotch. Some Scotch.