A forsaken pup, the landlord polishs boredly the glases, only one guest hangs over his glas
of beer in the farther end of the room. Suddenly the door gets torn opened and a man, from
the rain overflowed and obviously on the run, rushs in the tavern. Nervously he requests the
landlord for bolthole. The landlord complies, but only on condition that the underdog
orders something to eat: “lukewarm wether brain“. The haunters of the persecutee won't be
long in coming...