“Rudy entered and almost tripped over something. “Danny, you really ought to stop sweeping things under the rug. What the hell is this anyway?”
“Uh,” Danny peered around the corner, “I’m pretty sure that was a toaster.” Rudy was holding up mangled pieces of metal that he fished from beneath the carpet. “It broke,” Danny shrugged. “Drink?”
Rudy put the toaster back under the rug. “Please. A single malt, preferably from the Highlands.”
“You’ll take a glass of carrot juice and you’ll like it!” Danny poured Rudy and himself a few fingers of something that was either scotch or carrot juice.”