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 old lady bed with the gardener,
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, you jack-ass, show up and drink the whole thing! But enough about me,
how's your day going?"
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