The local dive bar had always been a stage for human absurdity, and one Friday night Billy-Bob burst in grinning like a lottery winner, buying drinks for everyone. He proudly announced he’d finally landed a city job—emptying parking meters. The bar toasted his success.
The following Monday, Billy-Bob returned even louder, pockets clanking with quarters, insisting on two more rounds for the house. When the bartender mentioned his paycheck would arrive in two weeks, Billy-Bob froze, stared at the coins in his hands, and whispered in awe, “Wait… they’re gonna pay me too?”
Elsewhere, a very drunk man tried entering the same bar through three different doors, only to be cut off by the same bartender each time. Staring in disbelief, he finally shouted, “Do you own every bar in this town?”
Still wandering and grumbling, he passed the city hospital just as a deeply embarrassed patient hurled a bundle of soiled bedsheets from a fourth-story window. The sheets dropped squarely onto the drunk, who fought them off in terror, convinced he was battling a ghost.
When a security guard arrived, the drunk wiped his brow, stared at the heap on the sidewalk, and said proudly, “I don’t know what that was, officer—but I just beat the hell out of a ghost.” 👻
