"Watch their hands, and don't drink anything they give you." Thrall: not actually all that fun.
"We had a pretty old local community in New Orleans," he says, with the air of someone who is now going to tell a story, and this is basically what they get for sitting down with beer with a pleasant-tempered Cajun, "And one of them big old graveyards over catacombs from fuck-knows-when. Most of 'em lived in houses just fine, but every so often if somebody went back in a grave, they'd sleep there. We had this game as kids in the winter, when it'd get dark real fast, to go wait by the gates at sunset, and we'd dare each other to run in and touch the headstone of the clan elder, and see if we could make it back before it got black out." He starts chuckling a bit. "And if anybody was there and you were too slow, they'd reach up outta the ground and grab at your ankles, and we'd just run screamin'."
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"We had a pretty old local community in New Orleans," he says, with the air of someone who is now going to tell a story, and this is basically what they get for sitting down with beer with a pleasant-tempered Cajun, "And one of them big old graveyards over catacombs from fuck-knows-when. Most of 'em lived in houses just fine, but every so often if somebody went back in a grave, they'd sleep there. We had this game as kids in the winter, when it'd get dark real fast, to go wait by the gates at sunset, and we'd dare each other to run in and touch the headstone of the clan elder, and see if we could make it back before it got black out." He starts chuckling a bit. "And if anybody was there and you were too slow, they'd reach up outta the ground and grab at your ankles, and we'd just run screamin'."