Swimming in a beer buzz, Eric wasn’t sure if he should answer his brother Marc’s innocuous question first, or Madonna’s, which had Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, exploding from both syllables. Inadvertently, he answered them both, with the honest, but safe harbour defense of, “I guess it’s just Mr. Canoehead talking.”

Madonna was about to launch into an attack on the eldest Staal, starting with a wise crack about the size of Gaga’s mammalian protuberances, and schnoz, when a horse saved everyone that discomfort, by whinnying as it walked through the doors, and into the lobby.

The horse caught everyone’s attention, but it was the creature that strode by its side that all fixated on. Stephen’s first thought was of Galadriel, the Elven Queen, from Lord of the Rings. ‘All she needs is pointed ears,’ he thought to himself. Majestic was the word that lodged in the massive, festering mess of looming dementia between the logophile’s ears, as he gazed upon the being, and he even quietly mumbled, “Your majesty.”

Kitty, too, was spellbound by the creature’s aura, which radiated serenity and celestial beauty, but she managed to ask Eric, “That would be Thunder Babe, rigt?”

Even if the brothers were geniuses, as Stephen had alleged – and no one would deny the charge, given their brilliant McGregor vs Mayweather 2 stratagem – they had fallen short, well short, of adequately describing their spiritual guru by labeling her Thunder Babe, but a puckhead is a puckhead is a puckhead, and puckheads, no matter how bright they are, are usually a bit on the oafish side when it comes to wordcraft, so they can be forgiven the misnomer.

“Hell yeah, it is,” Eric the elder confirmed, “The one and only.”

Jordan got Thunder Babe’s attention, “Yo,  Margot!” and lobbed a beer at her.

Margot caught the spiraling can with one hand, swiftly popped it open with the other, took a healthy, and obviously satisfying draught, sighed, smiled, and said, “Cheers, big ears! I needed that!”

Yes, it’s true, dear, gentle and perhaps confused reader; in Thunder Bay, even Goddesses swill beer.




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