Signs For The Times

And Finally:

There I was sitting at the bar staring at my drink when a large, trouble-making biker type steps up next to me, grabs my drink and gulps it down in one swig.

“Well, whatcha gonna do about it?” he asked menacingly.

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 cry.”

I looked at him and sniffed, “This is the worst day of my life.  I’m a complete failure.

I was late for a meeting and the boss fired me.

When I got to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen.  Then I left my wallet in the cab I took home.

I found my wife with another man, and then my dog bit me.

So I came to this to work up the courage to put an end to it all.  So I buy a drink, drop a capsule in it and was satching the poison dissolve; then you show up and drink the whole thing.

But enough about me, how’s your day going?”