Last of the Summer Wine
Wines are like people. A little oxygen, and they're at their best. Too much oxygen, and they blow up like a balloon and go flying through the air. Oh, what, you're too good for cartoons or something?
Let's do this. One last spree before sunset. A final frolic in the heat and haze. The next time we meet like this, the breezes will be cooler, the leaves will be redder, and the harvest will be almost ripe. It's the last Wine-Off of the summer. And we don't intend to waste it.