[Puke]

an innocent patron happens to notice the violence from their spot at the bar and, at sight of the red-hot ashton reaming, the poor visually-assaulted patron begins to wretch up his lunch.

the mass of vomit takes shape, and begins to display questionable signs of sentience. sloughing up to the bar, under its own power of movement, it orders a Spaten.

Puke is here.