A spotted owl flies into the bar.
“What will you have my feathered friend,” asks the bartender.
“Get out of here you mono-syllabic mouse-eater!”
A European grey squirrel bounces into the bar and tries to order an amaretto.
“Sorry,” says the bartender. “We don’t serve almond liquors.”
After a long day in the fields, a lamb sneaks into a bar and tries to order a scotch.
“I don’t know,” replies the bartender. “Ewe look a little too young to be mutton about.”
“I don’t care if you think its hogwash. I have a liquor license to keep.”
DUCK ET AL
A group of co-workers meet for happy hour and have an all-around mirthful time. Then tab arrives. The table first turns to the duck.
“No! No! No,” says the mallard. “Not on this bill.”
“I can chip in,” says the deer, sliding over a buck.
The skunk puts in its one scent.
The computer programmer looks over the tab. “I can’t put this on my work visa.”
Debra in accounting starts spit-balling: “Maybe we can shift the balance into the next quarter.”
“No,” interrupts the lancer. “I say we CHARGE!”
Nobody laughs. They were tired of his worn-out joke as much they were sick of his medieval outfit and horse pooping all over the parking lot.
“I wish I still had that pot of gold,” laments the leprechaun.
Everybody looks to the golden retriever at the far end of the table blithely looking on, saying nothing. It was smashed.
Finally, as always, all eyes fall on the beaver, the hardworking, get up early, stay late beaver. They pass him the tab and he earnestly pours over the numbers.
It was worse than he thought. (How can one dog drink ten Old Fashions?) He had no intention of bailing out this group again. It was time to put his large, flat tail down: “Come on, I only had a mineral water.”
He sounded whiny.
“Let’s sell the dog,” he quickly adds.
Then a smile returned to the group.
The golden retriever was already there.
DOC ET AL
A doctor, a dentist and a drug dealer step into a bar for a few drinks. Who picks up the tab?
The pharmaceutical rep two tables over.
The bartender’s ex-wife storms into the bar. Before she can complain about the back alimony, the bartender raises his hand and asks: “What should I have to drink?”
A dyslexic walks into the bra and orders a reeb.
The bartender nods; then discreetly consults the Bartender’s Bible. “Tish,” he mutters. “What’s a reeb?”
A Shinto priest walks into a tea house and orders a cup of kamairicha.
It was quite pleasant.
A polar bear lumbers in and saddles up to the bar.
The bartender asks the bear if it would like a Canadian beer.
“Does the pope wear a funny hat,” replies the bear.
The bartender laughs at the joke for that is what he’s paid to do. He pours a draft into a giant mug and slides it to the bear who quietly nurses the drink.
Unbelievably, the pope enters the bar a few minutes later. He is without his retinue and funny hat. Flying solo he grabs a stool at the other end of the bar.
The bartender cannot believe the dumb luck of having a bear and the pope in the same bar. He asks the pope if he would also like something to drink and waits for the punch line. Instead, the pope waves the bartender to come closer and whispers, “What is a bear doing in a bar?”
The bartender shrugs, “Having a drink.”
The pope shakes his head in disgust. “First, we let them eat at the dump. Then they are rummaging through our trash cans in the alley. Now this? Do you know what this means?”
The bartender is confused. “What does it mean?”
“It means they are no longer pooping in the woods.”
A bratwurst wobbles into the bar. Before it can reach a stool, the bartender picks it up and throws it away. He didn’t need another health code violation.
A catamaran sails into the bar.
“What would you like,” asks the bartender.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replies the boat. “Make me something breezy.”
“Namd ti,” mutters the bartender. “This sailboat is worse than the dyslexic.”
A skeleton skedaddles into a bar.
“What will you have,” asks the bartender.
“Give me a beer and a mop.”
“Since it’s only passing through, how about Old Style?”
“Sounds grand,” replies the skeleton. “But I’ll still need that mop.”
“What if the drink is on the house,” asks the bartender.
The skeleton grimaces. “Not sure I can get up there with these rickety knees. I could drink in a closet if you like.”
“I’m sorry,” replies the bartender. “Mine is filled with too many of the likes of you.”
“Hmm,” ponders the skeleton. “Maybe I’ll just go outside and have a smoke.”
The bartender nods. “Just remember to be at least 50 feet from the entrance.”
Bored with the lack of activity at the bar a red dart grabs a stool.
“Want something to drink,” asks the bartender, knowing full well that the mark-upped drink will come out of the dart’s salary.
“I don’t know,” says the dart. “I’m not much of a drinker. What are my options?”
“Well, we have beer and mixed drinks. I also have a box of zinfandel here somewhere…”
The dart just stares back blankly. “I don’t know. I’d like a beer, but maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Why’s that,” asks the bartender.
“What if I have an allergic reaction? Plus, I might not like the taste. I’d really like a ginger ale, but it makes me burp, which isn’t good when you’re doing burpees, which I try to do, at least 100 a day, which should be my daily caloric intake. Did you know that? Anymore calories and I get bloated, which causes a drag when I’m sailing towards a dart board. Speaking of sailing, what did that catamaran finally have to drink?”
The bartender stared at his rambling employee. For being a sharp object, it had a difficult time sticking to a point.
A neutron drifts into a bar and ask how much for a shot of bourbon.
“For all you do,” replies the bartender, “no charge.”
“Great,” says the neutron. “Also, some of my electron friends are joining me. Free drinks for them as well?”
“I don’t know,” replies the bartender. “Can they remain positive?”
“No, but they will behave if those protons at the table over there stay through happy hour.”
The bartender winces. “I don’t know. I can see this turning into something.”
“What’s the worst thing that can happen,” asks the neutron.
“Oh, I don’t know. How about nuclear decay?”
“Oh, don’t be so ignoble.”
The bartender didn’t like the flippant remark. “Argonit, I’ll be as xenonphobic as I want when it comes to your kryptonic behavior.”
“Well,” responds the neutron. “I don’t need this attitude, especially coming from a helium-filled, radon-neck.”
Before anymore elements were parsed, the neutron downs its drink and storms out of the bar. It jumps into its Dodge Neon and turns the key………… Nothing!
“Quark,” It swears. It really didn’t want to go back into the bar and ask the protons for a jump.
The past walks into the bar.
“How was the mimosa,” asks the bartender.
The future walks into the bar.
“What do you think you will be ordering,” asks the bartender.
The past perfect walks into the bar with the future continuous. The bartender shakes his head. Relationships like theirs had and will never be work(ed)ing.
Guilt walks into the bar.
“Hey, Gluttony,” says the bartender. “Back so soon?”
Before Guilt can respond, Lust slides through the door.
“Oh, no, no, no,” says the bartender. “Get out!”
“Why,” asks Lust.
“Because I cannot maintain a wait staff with you around.”
“Just one glass of pinot.”
“You need to leave.”
Lust does not budge.
“Do not incur my wrath,” adds the bartender.
“How is this fair,” protests Lust before leaving.
“You still here,” the bartender asks Gluttony.
Guilt tries to apologize for the night before, but the phone rings.
“Dante’s,” says the bartender picking up the receiver.
“Do you deliver,” asks Sloth on the other end of the line.
“Is this some kind of joke,” asks the bartender before slamming the receiver down. He then takes the drink orders from a tall blonde, a short friar and a complete Scottish bagpipe corp.
Envious of the quick service all around it, Guilt steps in front of a drunken Superman and says, “I came to apologize.”
“Then say it already,” says the bartender. “I have paying customers who won’t turn my bar into an inferno.
Then a majestic lion prowls through the door and separates the crowd.
“What will you have,” the bartender asks the king of the jungle.
“Can I get a couple of kegs to go?”
It was a busy night and the bartender didn’t have much to spare. “Two kegs,” he replies. “Why so greedy?”
“I have my pride.”