A man walks into the bar. Ouch. After that he needs a drink, so he walks towards the Midnight Pub, nursing the sore lump on his head. The door swings open - and in he steps.
He is bald, smiling, and wearing a bright-pink shirt but no swimming trunks (just normal trousers). Wherever the man walks, the smell of homemade fingernails and severely-chewed lemonade follows him. You are puzzled by the smell when he walks past you, but you soon forget all about him. That is, until you hear something sipping under your table.
You peer under the table and there he is again, sipping an Asgarnian Ale, studying the patterns on the floor. There are lime-green markings on the floor that you'd never seen before. You open your mouth to ask a question - or at least get his attention. Immediately, the pink-shirted man turns towards you, grinning, holding a finger to his lips.
"Shhh... Can you see the pattern?" he asks you. You look a little more closely at the lime-green patterns on the lemon-grey stone slabs. How do you respond?
"I do not believe in patterns."
"Yeah. That is Britney Spears, obviously."
Run away to a different table.
(eaterofsheep you genius! I love what you did here.)
I'm a bit embarassed to know how well I knew the lyrics of baby one more time. Let's just blame the alcohol for it? Speaking of which, please join my table!