Re: Ye Olde Galactic Bar & Grill & Phong\'s Head Cantina
A throaty rumble, hardly noticed at first, but quickly gaining volume fills the air in the Cantina. (The observant will recognize the sweet sound of a Chevy 350 with tuned and cherried exhaust.)
The engine sound subsides, and, after a brief pause, Gil Hamilton glides into the building and heads for the bar. Quietly trailing behind him, at one pace, the hover platform tirelessly bears its large load shrouded with what appears to be a red, white and blue silk covering.
As he reaches the bar, Gil turns with an exaggerated flourish, whips the cover off the crate of Killian's Red on the hover platform and proclaims, "Free AMERICAN beer for any who would like to remember or learn what it is to be American or who would just like to toss one down in fellowship. The rest of you can suck plasma!"
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If he'd reached it all kinds of hell would have broken loose, Haine's men would have hypoed me, and I would have regained consciousness a piece at a time, in Haine's organ-storage tanks. So I strangled him. -Death By Ecstasy-Larry Niven
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