Owl’s Nest

I was drifting through town one late night recently, Copenhagen dip in my lip, listening to the sweet sounds of the Bee Gees, mending a broken heart, when I came upon a small watering hole in an otherwise small Tennessee town in Amish country. At first, I was taken aback by the large chested, heavy set woman with a mullet, who was seductively beckoning me to come inside, but I threw caution to the wind and went for it. Inside, I was greeted by a friendly bearded midget, who needed a step stool, to tend his bar. Once I sat, I was served only the finest well vodka and bourbon a cowboy could find in these parts. After about 3 hours of binge drinking, I went home with Helga, (the mullet lady) and let’s just say… I now call ethridge my home. Thanks Owls Nest. because of you, I’m no longer a virgin, and I’m pretty sure I got my first pubes… ⁵⁄₅ stars!!!