You say you like cowboy hats, bartenders who don't have the greatest grasp of English, and don't understand what gin and tonics are... Then buddy you stepped into the right goddamn place. Order yourself a beer but don't you think about drinking that icy cold sucker on the dance floor you no class havin sonofabitch. Uh-uh, you just get that notion right on out of your goddamned noggin. That floor is for dancing the dance of love, making babies and playing pool. That fine mahogany wasn't intended to soak up your fucking beverages. If you're a dollar short of the $10 entrance fee on weekend nights then take your low rent ass over to the liquor store down the street and stay the hell off my lawn... And dance floor.
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