A Biker And The Man At The Bar

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?”