Where do you go at 4 in the AM when all the other bars fold up for the night? That's easy. You head on down to Lempert's Embalming Saloon.
Old man Lempert himself greets you as you walk in. You recoil from his frozen handshake; still, you manage a feeble, twisted smile. He motions to the bartender and before you know it, a cocktail is shaken and poured into a chilled long-stemmed glass and placed before you. It's the house specialty, made with gin, vermouth, TripleSec and formaldehyde. As you raise the glass to your lips you notice that the rest of the patrons are sitting stiffly and at odd angles. Their faces are blue. You drink.
Along about dusk the next day you regain a consciousness you'd rather not and manage to will yourself back into lethargy. You'll be there awhile longer. No matter. Lempert's help can sweep up around you.