12/25/2024
A small, balding man storms into a bar, his face red with frustration. He slams his hand on the counter and growls, “Give me a double of your strongest whiskey. I’m so mad, I can’t even see straight.”
The bartender, noticing the man looks like he’s been through the wringer, quietly pours him a double shot of Southern Comfort. The man downs it in one gulp and grumbles, “Another one.”
As the bartender pours the second drink, he asks, “What’s got you so worked up? Sounds like you could use a good rant.”
The man sighs and leans on the bar, clearly ready to unload. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. I was at the bar next door, just minding my business, when this drop-dead gorgeous blonde walks in and sits next to me. I couldn’t believe it—she looked like she stepped out of a movie! After a minute, she leans over and asks if I want to go back to her hotel for dinner and a chat.
“Well, I haven’t had a real meal in months, so I say yes faster than I can blink. She takes my hand, and we walk to this fancy hotel. We get to her room, and she tells me to relax while she gets ready for dinner. I sit down in this plush recliner, thinking I’m the luckiest guy alive.
“But just as I’m getting comfortable, I hear keys jangling outside the door. The blonde freezes, her face goes pale, and she whispers, ‘Oh no, it’s my boyfriend! He must’ve lost his wrestling match—he’s going to be furious! Quick, hide!’
“I start to panic, looking for a place to hide. The closet? Nope, he’d check there first. Under the bed? Not a chance. Then I see the window is open, and with no other options, I climb out and hang from the windowsill by my fingertips.”
The bartender raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s rough.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” the man continues. “The guy comes in screaming, ‘Who’s here? Where is he, you cheating liar?!’ She’s trying to calm him down, but he’s flipping out. First, he rips the closet door off the hinges and throws it across the room. I thought, ‘Thank God I didn’t pick the closet.’
“Then he flips the bed over like it weighs nothing. I’m hanging there thinking, ‘Great call not hiding under that!’ Then, just as I think he’s calming down, I hear him ask, ‘What’s that by the window?’ My heart stops. But the blonde distracts him, and I think I’m safe.
“Wrong. A minute later, I hear water running. I figure maybe he’s splashing his face to cool off, but nope. Suddenly, he dumps a pitcher of boiling hot water right out the window—straight on me! Look at this!” He tugs at his shirt, showing red, blistered burns.
The bartender winces. “That’s brutal, man. I’d be furious too.”
“Wait, there’s more!” the man exclaims, holding up his swollen, bloody hands. “After the water, the guy comes to the window and starts slamming it down on my fingers—over and over! I thought my hands were done for.”
The bartender shakes his head sympathetically. “I don’t blame you for being upset. That sounds like a nightmare.”
The man slams his fist on the bar again, looking furious. “But that’s not even what made me mad!”
Now thoroughly confused, the bartender asks, “Then what finally pushed you over the edge?”
The man groans and says, “After all that, I finally turned around, looked down, and realized—I was only six inches off the ground!”
