Abby turned to look, then burst out into what is one of the world's best laughs. "That's not an animal," she said. "That's [and here she identified one of the town's Selectmen]." Said Selectperson had passed out face down in her plate, her long thick hair falling around her, her three companions going about their dining pleasure as if there was nothing unusual at their table.
Anyway, Jim, I have several thousand happy memories that involve you. Thank you for never being anything other than a good friend!
And speaking of martinis reminds me of a favored Dorothy Parker lyric which I might not get exactly right:
I love a good martini,
but two at the most ...
three I'm under the table,
four and I'm under the host.