[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

The muffled sound of enthusiastic applause drilled its demanding way through the tartan alcoholic haze in which Squatter's brain was marinading.

Realising that a change might be as good as a rest, he acquired another scotch and made his way to the auditorium, its plush edges now further softened by the effects of his party-long binge. All in all it had been a successful reception and he was now in a sufficiently receptive mood to appreciate the speeches that were sure to come. Emergencies, such as on-stage point-scoring would be met with the contents of the large hip-flask in his pocket, and he supplemented this with another glass of champagne, which he piloted expertly from a tray of its fellows en route to the rows of seats.

Finding as unobtrusive a seat as possible that still afforded anything like a view of the stage, he flopped into it and sipped his bubbly delicately. He was now in the mood to applaud enthusiastically even the most lacklustre oration; and unless he should be required to stand up or say anything intelligible the evening ought to progress swimmingly.

'This will do nicely,' he mused to himself as he awaited the advent of the next award, filling in by clapping the last one despite the handicap of having missed both its category and its recipient.

[ May 05, 2003: Message edited by: The Squatter of Amon Rûdh ]