Singled Out

I walked into a bar the other day and say,  "Excuse me, I'd like a pint of beer, well, make it a root beer... I forgot, I just had a root canal. "

The bartender serves the root beer and says,  "That'll be four dollars." I pull out a twenty-dollar bill and hand it to the bartender.

"Sorry, sir," the bartender says, "but I can't accept that."

I pull out a ten-dollar bill and the bartender rejects my money again. "What's going on here?" I ask.

Pointing to a neon sign, the bartender explains, "This is a Singles Bar."

Seeing that I didn't have any singles, on my way out  I picked up one of the busty brunettes who was ogling me the entire time and we headed over to "Anita Nichol's" on the corner, in which  I gave its owner a nickel  every time I asked her name.

Ah, sometimes I wish were a banker instead of this "Walden Ponded" world-renowned advice guru who often forgets to put on his pants before heading out.

Thanks for listening,

R.J. Fico

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