Wings and rings down at the shack, I am a regular elbows on that silkey oak taring straight ahead at that hotsauce like I now I'm going to move it with telekinesis one day. I'm not a hardass, I'm just not participating in the atmosphere. I only come by five to closing and stay an hour after, when the taps are wide out open the door's locked and the chef and I, Florida man, are mopping up the scraps with out fingers and faces while we lsiten to white zombie at a level that is audibly unsustainable. Those are the nights and ain't it funny how it is.