There I was sitting at the bar staring at my drink when a large, trouble-making biker type steps up next to me, grabs my drink and gulps it down in one swig.
“Well, whatcha gonna do about it?” he asked menacingly.
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 cry.”
I looked at him and sniffed, “This is the worst day of my life. I’m a complete failure.
I was late for a meeting and the boss fired me.
When I got to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen. Then 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 to work up the courage to put an end to it all. So I buy a drink, drop a capsule in it and was satching the poison dissolve; then you show up and drink the whole thing.
But enough about me, how’s your day going?”