It's a busy night at Onyx Wonderful's Grata Shack. You've been slinging drinks there to the sad faces of Dallas Texas for a little over five years now, and the only thing that seems to have changed is that you've started to actually be able to understand the slurring drawls of the more drunken regulars.

You can't help but remember what Mom had told you about drinking and partying, and now can see how your bad decisions in that arena led you inexorably to standing behind this cheap wooden bar working with cocky kids half your age.

One of your more likable regulars, Jim, has sidled up to the bar and is tipping his finger to his nose in your mutually understood gesticular symbology for "get him a whiskey and a beer."

RATE THIS BRANCH!