Why is it that little tiny mythical creatures, not even knee high, always cause the biggest headaches? The saying is, "Good things come in small packages." Whoever invented that aphorism should be locked in a roomful of pukwudgies, pixies, and Tullamore Tom after several pints of ale.
The pukwudgies all scamper around the room, and we avoid eye contact with them. I murmur to Gramps and the others, "Let's just continue the inventory at another time."
Athena looks at me strangely.
Pigsy gets it, though. "I could do with some lunch," he declares. "The Celestial Cafe is making something incredible today. The special is ... well, the chef is making it up on the spot. It's a new creation. Walk this way and let's all go to lunch."
With that, Pigsy dances toward the door, a lot lighter on his feet than anyone might expect.
