Grog was down. He sat idly by the window, staring out and chewing on his toenails. His leg was bent in awkward position as gnawing noises echoed across the tavern's main room. The streets were a grey, cold mist outside as an almost silent rain covered it. It had rained like this for three days and showed no sign of letting up. Grog heaved an audible sigh and he let his foot drop, absently picking at the toes on his other foot.
The other patrons stared as he heaved his massive form almost upright and lumbered to the bar.
Then he ate all the peanuts he could find. Boy, was he bored.
Looking around for someone to help cheer him, he spotted Mike and Jeff in deep discussion at a table in a corner, Abe dozing close by. He eagerly waved at them then stared intently, waiting.
Home 
