In a hole in the ground there lived a Goodman. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, but close. This hole, despite being hobbit-sized, served as the gathering spot for rowdy Federal Circuit clerks on alternate Wednesdays many years ago. One day the Goodman left his little hole and went on an amazing journey that resulted in him no longer being a poker host in his own right. Actually, the journey was a rather mundane and obnoxious one for the Shire of Columbia, and involved moving his many hobbit trinkets from hole to hole in a series of rowhouses—each only a block or so from the next—in search of a more fulfilling life.
This more fulfilling life finally found him, unexpectedly, with the acquisition of a ring. Though quite a small and harmless-seeming thing, this ring had great power. It compelled him upon an arduous quest to bring the ring to its proper home, and to keep the ring-bearer safe and happy. That quest was triumphantly concluded mere days ago, when two Goodmans placed all of their hobbit trinkets finally at rest in their brand-spanking’ new condo.
Having completed his quest, the Goodman has retaken his title as a poker host in his own right. He has also retaken his poker table, complete with green felt and cupholders. The Goodmans live at [——–] (upstairs). Poker will begin at their house at 8pm tonight. Bring booze. Bring a snack to share. Join in the housewarming party!*
*I originally had “hole-warming,” but that sounded really creepy.