You know how it is. When you find a place that suits your fancy and serves the best grub in town, you tell your buds. They try it out and spread the word, and pretty soon the place is filled to the rafters. Even when there really aren’t any rafters or, for that matter, walls.
But there is a sign on a tree, hung way down low, where everybody can see it, that says, “No mask, no shirt, no shoes . . . C’mon in!” (I think it’s a key part of the charm.)
Today a happy little pink-toed possum ambled in. He nearly cleaned out the buffet.
Hot on heels was a sleek black squirrel, and he munched away to his heart’s content.
It’s a good thing the birds all got there early, ate their fill at breakfast. I put in a call for a double order of fixin’s for tomorrow.
You never know who might show up next.