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.”
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 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 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.”
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 can cause a drag when sailing towards a dart board. Speaking of sailing, what did that catamaran finally have to drink?”
The bartender stared at the rambling employee. For being such a sharp object, it had a difficult time sticking to a subject.
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 soon.”
“Can they remain positive,” asks the bartender.
“No, but they will behave.”
“I don’t know,” the bartender winces, looking over to the table of protons. “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, storms out of the bar and jumps into its Dodge Neon. It turns the key………… Nothing!
“Quark,” It swears. It would now have to ask the electrons and protons for a jump.
Sin walks into the bar.
“Hey, Gluttony,” says the bartender. “Back so soon?”
Before Gluttony 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.
Gluttony 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. He then takes the drink orders from a tall blonde, a short priest and a Scottish bagpipe corp.
Envious of the quick service all around it, Guilt steps in front of drunk Superman and says, “I came to apologize.”
Before the bartender can respond, a majestic lion enters 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?”
“Two kegs,” the bartender replies. “Why so greedy?”
“I have my pride.”