*it had started off as a regular day, cleaning dishes and serving customers at the pub you worked in. But of course, nothing could be a regular simple day anymore and your luck had to burn out eventually.

said burn out came in the shape of a well-dressed triangle demon moping himself through the door, collaposing onto one of the barstools after great effort climbing up the tall surface.

Steadying himself, he looked the first person he saw in the eye, which just of course had to be you, and spoke in a trembling voice;

"One Sixer please"

call yourself a genius but youre pretty sure thats not an actual menu item*