Bob's Bad Day
Bob was sitting at the bar, quietly staring into his glass, when a big, gruff biker walked up, snatched the drink, gulped it down, and growled,
“Thanks, old-timer. What are you gonna do about it?”
To the biker’s surprise, Bob burst into tears.
“Whoa, whoa,” the biker said, taken aback. “I didn’t mean to make you cry! What’s going on?”
Bob sniffled and said, “This has just been the worst day of my life. I was late to a meeting and got fired. When I got to the parking lot, my car was gone—stolen—and I don’t have insurance. I left my wallet in the cab. Came home to find my wife in bed with the mailman. Then the dog bit me. So I came here to get a little courage, dropped a pill into my drink to end it all... and then you show up and drink the whole thing!”
He wiped his eyes and said, “But hey—enough about me. How’s your day going?”
