talk to me tell me a joke
let me tell you the joke i told at my wedding
a duck walks into a bar. he sidles up to the bartender, and the bartender takes it in stride. you know, ducks, horses, whatever, he serves animals. he’s not an asshole
the bartender says, “what’ll you have?” the duck thinks it over and asks, “do you have any grapes?” the bartender has no grapes. he’s a bartender, not a greengrocer. the duck leaves
the next day, the duck comes back. the bartender asks, “what’ll you have?”
the duck says, “do you have any grapes?”
the bartender still doesn’t have any. he’s getting a little pissed off at this point. “no,” he says, through clenched teeth. “i still don’t have any grapes.” the duck is already out of his bar. what a little asshole
the next day, the bartender gets up dreading this fucking duck coming back. all day he’s sweating having to deal with this shitty little animal. just when he thinks he’s off the hook, five minutes before closing, the duck walks through his door. the bartender screams
“listen, you little shit, i don’t have any grapes! i’m never going to have any grapes for you! if you come in here asking for grapes again, i’ll nail your beak to the fucking bar! now order an actual drink or get the fuck out of my bar!”
the next day, the duck doesn’t come in
the day after, still no sign of the duck. the bartender regrets how strong he came across but is really glad he got rid of that asshole duck
a week goes by. he forgets about the duck. goes home to his beautiful wife and enjoys his life as a small business owner in the big city. tools around with his car in his free time. a truly happy man
years pass. the duck returns, like a chronic disease. the bartender eyes him warily. he’s ready for this duck’s shit. “what’ll you have, friend?”
“do you have a hammer?,” asks the duck.
“no,” says the bartender.
“then i’ll have some grapes”
i don’t get it
ducks love grapes
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