Umbrella Corp. strikes again

Sometimes the best thing you can do on a cold, rainy night is sidle into the secret back room of the Jade Monkey, toss back a Grasshopper, and spend a couple hours relating the cannibalistic adventures of the Shwarma King and the mailboy's elephantitis-on-wheels in your best whiskey-and-cigarettes New York accent. Sometimes Jessie will lapse into her whiskey-and-cigarettes Wisconsin accent instead. Occasionally, Robin will turn into a unicorn or Mick will revert to a salesman from the 50s. Every now and then you all will pause, exchange a significant look, and simultaneously feign a seizure. Then ask each other scathingly, "Now what does that have to do with Irish Springs?"