Last night, I was enjoying some “me” time; I whipped up a nice cocktail for myself and drew a luscious bath. After I was much better acquainted with my handheld showerhead, I toweled off and slipped into my silkiest robe before heading to make myself another drink.

As I stood in my kitchen squeezing a juicy blood orange into my shaker tin, I heard jingling bells and clanging chains approaching behind me…I turned around and saw 9 feet of horns, hooves, and fur hovering over me. I’ll admit, I have a weakness for big beefcakes – so naturally I offered you a drink. I had to dig in the back of my bar to find a dusty bottle of schnapps, as schnapps on the rocks was your drink of choice. Not my cup of booze, but who am I to judge?

We sat at my table and had a pleasant conversation about the trials and tribulations of healing split tongues, and complimented each others’ collection of chains. I thought I heard faint screams coming from the large bag you were carrying, but figured your bluetooth speaker must have turned on by accident. It confirmed my suspicions – you were totally a metalhead too. I got up to make you another drink, and when I turned around you were gone. I didn’t catch your name, but you know how to get ahold of me if you’d like to see me again next year.