Thursday, November 11, 2010


There I was just sitting by myself at the bar staring at my untouched drink.
Suddenly, a heavy-set 6' 8" tattooed dirtbag biker steps up next to me and grabs my drink. He then grinned at me and gulped down my drink in one swig.
"Well, whatcha gonna do about it?" he says, menacingly, as I burst into tears.
"Come on, man," the biker says, "I didn't think you'd cry. I just need to kick someone's ass, not watch a grown man crying."
"This is the worst day of my life," I say. "I'm a complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don't have any insurance. I left my wallet in the cab I took home. I found my old lady in bed with the gardener, and then my dog bit me."
"So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all, I buy a drink, I drop a capsule in and sit here watching the poison dissolve. Then you, you overgrown asshole, show up and drink the whole thing! But enough about me, how's your day going?"

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