Friday Afternoon Happy Hour

Coming back to earth, people’s favorite Sir Terre found himself out of the money searching for happy hour spirits when he crossed over the border, entering the Land of Mary. Claiming to have a fast and firm track, the drunken state had a thick hard-shell façade reflecting upon the turtles that roamed the streets.

Trying to avoid these slow crawling critters Laurel parked her car outside the pub she owned. Entering the business investment, she noticed Sir Terre grounded in despair, lonely and broke.

“Sir Terre,” Laurel exclaimed, “what brings you to the land of Mary?”

“I came to this place down cold, and I need a pick me up,”

“Well,” Laurel smiled going behind the counter bar deciding to defend her enthusiastic personality turf, “let me show you a nice stimulus maker, it has the Addison pour, which makes it a winner.”

“Wouldn’t that make someone sick?”

“That is the corporate office’s mentality thinking they are on the fast-track claiming facts and of course figures,” Laurel presented an electrical image, “let me grab the special attractive necklace before stirring the drink that can combat any ill.”

“Does the tempting tease have twice gold?”

“In this place I always put a double shot into the mix,”

“Okay, I will take one,” Sir Terre requested watching the fortune wrap around her neck knowing a substantial jolting charge can turn things around quickly. Pushing herself away, the bar instantly turned into a stage, “what are you doing?” Sir Terre inquired.

“I am going to show you my mamba,”

“Well, being out of the money that makes allotacents,”

Starting her performance, smoke circulating all throughout the Amity Road watering hole and the magical perfume smell created a winning setting.

“This place is buckin great,” one patron toasted the entertainment, slurring the compliment.

Then using divine magic as a get out of the money card the sorcery choreographed dance changed everyone and after the show, the customers felt buckin lucky.

When the cash register quieted, and hysteria tapered off, Sir Terre finished what was in his glass. “Well, thank you Miss Laurel,” he responded.

“Sir Terre next time you find yourself having low mileage in the emotional tank and you want to be a winner,” Laurel replied, “come enjoy my maiden special weight spell and go home satisfied.”