| In the Roost you could look down on people and spill drinks on them. Also you could flick ashes on their heads. Speaking of which - it's a miracle this place didn't go up in flames every weekend. The combination of liquor, cigarettes, meat and shag must have been dangerous. But don't worry: No doubt the rugs were saturated with all sorts of carcinogenic flame-retardants.
From the Roost it's apparent that they didn't feel like extending the illusion of the walls all the way up. Ah, what the hell. Maybe the Roost was for the jaundiced, the folks who had no illusions, and wanted their cynical visions confirmed. |
