The biker

Piccole letture in chiave umoristica e/o filosofica

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There I was, sitting at the bar, staring at my drink, when a large biker grabbed my drink and swallowed it down in one swig.
“Well, what are you going do about it?” asked the biker menacingly as I burst into tears.
“This is the worst day of my life,” I replied, sobbing. “I’m a complete failure. I was late to a meeting this morning and my boss fired me. When I went to the car park, I found that my car had been stolen and I don’t have any insurance against theft. I left my wallet in the taxi that I took to get back home. When I finally did get home, I found my wife with another man and as I was kicking him out of the house, my dog bit me. So I came to this bar to to put an end to it all. I bought myself a drink, dropped some poison in, and was just sitting here watching it dissolve when you came in and swallowed the whole lot down.
“But that’s enough of me. How’s your day going?”

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