The blonde bartender, beautiful and nice with a heavy accent, is missing a front tooth, and that gives this SF Irish pub extra charm. Outside, frost was beginning to settle on the rooftops and the last cab of the night was pulling away, abandoning all hope of securing a final fare. The moonlight was relentless, starkly illuminating the remaining options for the man staring through the glass. He realized his life was full of contradictions, sighed an exhausted smoke ring from his corn cob pipe, and scratched angrily at his 2 month beard. He threw the pipe, rattling noisily across the tiled floor, and pulled from his pocket an unfamiliar looking crumpled piece of paper.
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