There I was sitting at the bar staring at my drink when a large, ugly,
trouble-making biker, with his chain drive billfold, leather jacket, harness
boots, tattooed from head to toe, long beard and hair, rings in his ears and
nose, 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?"
Author
Topic: So, how's your day going? (Read 568 times)