BUFFALO: Damn, nose stuffed up, head throbbing, muscles aching, eyes burning... and no lemons or whisky to make hot toddies with. Sonofabitch. No choice but to make a lemon and likker run, I guess. Hmmm. Let's see... there's some gin, but no whisky... blackberry brandy; God no, if I start on that, I'll do the whole pint and then I'm screwed, blue, er, black... black and blue. No, what I need is hot buttered rum - fookin' GROG! Yes, that's the ticket, hot grog with butter and biscuits. I can drink it and bathe in it. Okay, shower, fook the shave, off to Kroger's and the likker store. If that turd calls me "Boss" again I'm decking him. I don't know what's worse, "My friend" or "Boss". On second thoughts, maybe I'll just hang myself from the highest beam. But I can't find the rope I'm looking for, a classic Sacre Bleu Velveeta Rope (in Latin, an SPQR). All the others are much too scratchy (and tacky). When I finally do hang myself, it will be with the utmost style and decorum. Onwards and downwards. Birdy, you dere? Birdy! Dammit! Better phone 911 for a crane!