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A Prayer For the Prosperous Reopening of Grille 86

Grille 86’s water damage has finally been sucked from the structure, because their stupid “See you at Ted’s” sign has been replaced with another promising new menu items. In the hopes that Grille never leaves us in the cold again, let’s all raise a shot glass and pray — to no specific god or gods— for another semester of calling cops on frat parties and partying with 17 year olds.

In the name of gin, vodka, rum and beer,

May this semester mirror the beginning of the last,
In the simplicity of bar entrance and drink purchase.
Thou do not discriminate,
against race, sex or

I believe in the power of a brownout,
Being woken by an open window in a strangers’ room
Smelling vaguely of feline urine and cold cheese.

I believe in falling in love
And never texting them again.
Oh Grille 86,
Thou carry-est the entryway for human descent into hell,
A sacred walk through lines of shots and lime wedges,
Those rejected puking from poignancy outside your glass windows.

Thou windows,
Impregnated by a vehicle and endless palms on glass,
As the line for intoxication extends to Kathmandu.

My soul proclaims the greatness of intoxication,
And weeps at that stupid piece of paper hung on the door.
The darkness took your pipes,
But the insurance company restored your health.

From one-night stands we are conceived,
And your proximity to CVS allows for plan B,
Open your gates back to us,
Grille 86.

Father of Booze,
pray for us sinners,
now and at every Nickel for which Grille is not open.

In the name of gin, vodka, rum and beer,


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