At the Gate

We had smoked fish for supper last evening. Later that night I was drinking a round with the folks from the spelling bee team. One of the fellows was saying that he had always thought he was Scottish, but the DNA test came in on the side of Irish/Italian. I quietly let loose a fart. The Scottish fellow said he thought he could smell smoke. The waitress came and said that the ash tray was on fire, the ashtray outside the door. When we left there was water on the sidewalk.