“It’s gotta be hard owning a pub on the road to the afterlife,” observed Fuen. “Knowing most of the people that drop in here you’ll likely never see again.”
“That’s not always a bad thing,” sighed Reala. “I’m eager to see the entire 2019 political landscape walk up the road.”
The trio looked laughed and looked outside. They saw three-dozen sprites walking up the road. “That’s not good,” remarked Fuen.
Reala rang the bell for last orders. Pavlov jumped up from his seat, crying out “shit, I forgot to feed the dog.”