Pour One Out

The events of that evening have been often spoken about in hushed tones and whispers. No one knows what really happened mind you. Well, almost no one. Those who swear that they were there, that they saw it with their own eyes, are, I am afraid to say, liars and gossips.

At 12 PM on Sunday the 1st of September Lord Lindsey Lionel Pritchett IV received a letter. Now the most curious thing about this letter was not that it bore no return address, nor that none of the 4 guards at the front gate saw anyone come or go who could have dropped it off, nor even that it consisted merely of 11 words. The strangest thing about it was that it was supposedly written by a man who had been dead near a year. Suffice to say that Lord Pritchett was not amused, for he at once recognized the hand that was meant to have written these eleven words, “The bar good friend. The seventh at seven. Please do come.” and he did not appreciate the prank. Despite his abhorrently long name and his lofty title, Pritchett was a “proper gentleman” only when he had to be, and there were very few individuals who were privy to his true light-hearted nature. But despite his love for a good joke, there were some things he did not take lightly.

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