[dogscoff]

*Dogscoff swaggers up to the cantina, tanned and fat after two delightful weeks in Sri Lanka. He's eager to celebrate his recent wedding by buying a round or Arrak for everyone, getting thoroughly drunk and then and performing a traditional Sri Lankan wedding dance on 'Tigga's head (while wearing somewhat less than traditional pair of football boots.)

The place deserted. A "closed for business" sign adorns the door. Dogscoff's face drops. His beerbelly droops dejectedly.

Alone and fighting back the tears, he stumbles off to the nearest off-license, buys two bottles of the cheapest available vodka and heads for the beach. As darkness falls, he uses one bottle of vodka to get a decent driftwood-fire going and the other to salute the memory of a most illustrious establishment. Ghostly images of amiable mayhem flicker in the flames...