McCloud Castle

Continuing with the previous story, Angus had arranged for his limo to take me home because I was over my limit of think-a-hol.

No sooner did the limo driver tell me that he had to stop at Angus’ home to pick up something than the limo shifted out of hyper-drive and this scene appeared ahead of us.

“What the hell is that?” I asked Angus’ driver.

“That, my good man,” replied the driver, “is McCloud Castle.”

I always knew that Angus, the big-ass head bartender at Think-A-Holic Lounge, was the ghost of a dead Scottish poet named Angus McCloud but I never knew he was any kind of royalty.

“And this is where Angus lives?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“For over four hundred Earth years,” he responded.

“Now I know for sure that I’m over-tipping him,” I muttered to myself.

“What’s that, sir?” asked the driver as he piloted the limo in for a landing.

“I said I just love the triple moons,” I fibbed.

After we landed, I was asked to remain in the limo and I told the driver that was just fine by me. Another big fib on my part.

To be continued...