The Little White Mouse

So, Greg told us about a restaurant. He said it was within easy walking distance. Despite our previous experience with Greg's estimation of distance, we decided to give it a try anyway. As we walked across the second bridge, I started to doubt our fearless leader's land navigation, but was soon calmed by the site of "Lobster House" looming on the horizon.

The food was wonderful, but the waitstaff was nervous. Then again, tucking six sailors in the corner can be a bad idea, at times. We maintained a dull roar, while Thurston James Hardwood, III regaled us with tales of his voyages. As the main course arrived, Greg gave us a blow by blow recount of his last litigious triumph, much to the chagrin of the potato before him.

As we walked back, or trekked as the case may be, Red and Douglass taught us a new song:

The liquor was spilled on the bar room floor
And the bar was closed for the night

A little white mouse from the hole in the wall
Crept out in the pale moonlight

He lapped at the liquor on the bar room floor
And on his haunches he sat

And all night long, you could hear him roar.....
Bring on the god damned cat!

That pretty much sums it up for me. Tomorrow, we head to Atlantic City. God have mercy on their souls.