Doghead's Cosmic Bar

There's one behind the counter.

Well then, someone pass me the goat . . .

Poor little goat....

You know what they say Butterfly. Sheep go to heaven . . . *switches on blender* . . . Goats go to hell.

Corwin, can you pass me some meat? I want to make a barbecue with the seeker, but the shops were closed.

Uh DJ, put away that SPCA badge, please

jgjtpw, I'm afraid there's naught left but puree. This is quite an effecient blender.

And DJ, the goat had been licking at the outtake pipe that sucks all the spilled alcohol out of here while it was outside. Trust me, it didn't feel a thing. And you will find my animal slaughter permit in my upper jacket pocket, so kindly put down the taser and help me find something to mail the goat puree to Braeden.

I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't know my address. I was in Europe when they caught me...

Stay on the line we are tracing your call . . .

I think they scramble the signal or something. But I have friends on the outside who could get the goat to me. Just address the package to "Braeden IV" and leave it in a graveyard.

You mean like the graveyard out the back of Dogh'd's? Be back in a jiff . . .

What is a graveyard doing right behind a restaurant?
*looks down suspiciously at unidentifiable stir fry*