Here I was, sitting at the bar, staring at my drink, when a large trouble-making biker steps up next to me, grabs my drink, and gulps it down 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 can’t stand to see a 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 wife with another man, 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 show up and drink the whole thing! “But enough about me, how’s your day going?”
