Windrap, coming both from wind rapture and the wind rapping inside your brain-box, is served ice cold in Windglum, but the barkeeper won't enjoy it. Using some mold that creeps in the cellars for centuries and some old beverages made of corn, they let the client drink and then, suddenly, yank the chair while he is seated, giving a blast similar to having cerebral parasites discussing your liability as a meal inside your head.
