Man: Barman, there seems to be something in my shot.
Barman: Well sir, I suppose that is an entirely personal matter.
Man: What do you mean ? It was you who gave me the shot surely.
Barman: What an absolutely rib-tickling idea my dear sir ! I would concede that in my capacity as a dispenser of cocktails, I might be susceptible to becoming more friendly to some than social norms generally allow, but to suggest that I might have in fact presented you with a pair of undergarments is truly amusing.
Man: What? What are you talking about?
Barman: Your short sir, your boxer short. Now I do not want to sound apathetic and callous to your difficulties but I would rather not comment upon anything unnatural and unexpected that you might be experiencing in there. For all the gregariousness that this job demands, I am afraid sir, I draw the line beyond which I have to make small talk over a customer's underwear.
Man: No no you dimwit. I was talking about this shot. This Tequila shot.
Barman: Oh, oh! I am deeply sorry sir. Please wrench off my sideburns and stamp on my toes with steel toed boots for this embarrassing misunderstanding. Is there something wrong ?
Man: Yes there is something in it.
Barman: In what ?
Man: Shot dammit shot.
Barman: Where where ? I didn't hear it ? Is everyone fine ?
Man: What are you talking about ? There is something in my shot I said.
Barman: Well sir, I suggest you contact the department store for a refund then.
Man: No no no. THERE IS SOMETHING IN MY TEQUILA SHOT YOU NINCOMPOOP.
Barman: Then you should have said it earlier dear sir. Rather than taking me on a wild goose chase involving shots being fired in a bar with patrons having questionable items in their undies running amok trying to save their lives, you could just have said, 'Barman, there is something in my shot'. Well here, a sparkling new glass of twinkling beverage, just for my dear sir who, I must say, seems to be a bit woozy today.
Man: Well thanks... Finally... Anyways, can I have the ashtray. I need to dispose off this butt.
Barman: Sir, my wife and seven kids stand testimony to my lifelong interest in the female of the specie but I must say here that I do not see anything wrong with your bottom. I would perhaps go even as far as saying that if ever a popular vote is sought over the issue of disposing off your butt, I would heterosexually vote in to veto the idea.
Man: No no the cigarette butt you birdbrain.
Barman: Oh oh! I am sorry sir. I thought... never mind what I thought. Here take this. Are you comfortable in there ?
Man: Well, the stool has been slightly off color for me I must say.
Barman:...
(Well we won't go any further, if only for propriety :) ).
Barman: Well sir, I suppose that is an entirely personal matter.
Man: What do you mean ? It was you who gave me the shot surely.
Barman: What an absolutely rib-tickling idea my dear sir ! I would concede that in my capacity as a dispenser of cocktails, I might be susceptible to becoming more friendly to some than social norms generally allow, but to suggest that I might have in fact presented you with a pair of undergarments is truly amusing.
Man: What? What are you talking about?
Barman: Your short sir, your boxer short. Now I do not want to sound apathetic and callous to your difficulties but I would rather not comment upon anything unnatural and unexpected that you might be experiencing in there. For all the gregariousness that this job demands, I am afraid sir, I draw the line beyond which I have to make small talk over a customer's underwear.
Man: No no you dimwit. I was talking about this shot. This Tequila shot.
Barman: Oh, oh! I am deeply sorry sir. Please wrench off my sideburns and stamp on my toes with steel toed boots for this embarrassing misunderstanding. Is there something wrong ?
Man: Yes there is something in it.
Barman: In what ?
Man: Shot dammit shot.
Barman: Where where ? I didn't hear it ? Is everyone fine ?
Man: What are you talking about ? There is something in my shot I said.
Barman: Well sir, I suggest you contact the department store for a refund then.
Man: No no no. THERE IS SOMETHING IN MY TEQUILA SHOT YOU NINCOMPOOP.
Barman: Then you should have said it earlier dear sir. Rather than taking me on a wild goose chase involving shots being fired in a bar with patrons having questionable items in their undies running amok trying to save their lives, you could just have said, 'Barman, there is something in my shot'. Well here, a sparkling new glass of twinkling beverage, just for my dear sir who, I must say, seems to be a bit woozy today.
Man: Well thanks... Finally... Anyways, can I have the ashtray. I need to dispose off this butt.
Barman: Sir, my wife and seven kids stand testimony to my lifelong interest in the female of the specie but I must say here that I do not see anything wrong with your bottom. I would perhaps go even as far as saying that if ever a popular vote is sought over the issue of disposing off your butt, I would heterosexually vote in to veto the idea.
Man: No no the cigarette butt you birdbrain.
Barman: Oh oh! I am sorry sir. I thought... never mind what I thought. Here take this. Are you comfortable in there ?
Man: Well, the stool has been slightly off color for me I must say.
Barman:...
(Well we won't go any further, if only for propriety :) ).
2 comments:
Says the guy who doesn't drink and probably have never seen the inside of a bar? your imagination is running amok and you should put a leash on it as it is not funny. As a matter of fact it is far from anything funny! :-)
didn't you get it! it wasn't supposed to be funny. it was a tragic story. I'm happy that you found it so :).
Post a Comment