Barnaby was never really one for beer, not even root beer-not even anything that could get him drunk. He’d occasionally serve root beer at his parties, but that’d be the closest anyone could get to alcohol. Though, one of the Barnaboos had. . Plans.

Somehow, one of the Barnaboos had gotten their hands on beer. Oh god.

Barnaby was sat against the wall, letting out a sigh as he watched all the Barnaboos drunkenly dance and party, occasionally gently picking a Barnaboo off of his feathers without even looking. He would’ve just left already, but, he didn’t want one of his Barnaboos to get themselves killed for a second time, so, he just sat down and watched with a bored face, drinking some punch.