The Watering Hole


"So, this


walks into a bar..."


...and plops down on a stool. 


"Hoo boy, I need a drink," he squawks.  


"Sure," says the barman. "Waddle it be?"


The bird squints his beady eyes and then turns and stalks out of the bar. 


"Huh.  Some birds just can't take a yolk," shrugs the barman. 


Later that night the penguin returns and sets fire to the bar and burns it to the ground. 


The Moral of the Story:

"Don't f**k with penguins."


The Other Moral of the Story:

"Penguins don't like puns."




walks into a bar...


...then the cat turns around and walks out of the bar. In another minute, the cat walks back into the bar. 


"Hey, make up your mind, huh?" shouts the barman.  


Later that night the barman finds cat poop in his boots.  



The moral of the story:

“Cats will be cats will be cats.”


The other moral of the story:

“A cat's gotta do what a cat's gotta do.”


The other, other moral of the story:

“Just like cats, morals sometimes repeat themselves.”




walks into a bar...


...and the barman says "Hey, lemme guess: a pink lady!"


The flamingo looks surprised. "Have you seen her?"


"Seen who? "


"My mom. I heard she was in here earlier."


"Oh. I thought you wanted a pink lady. You know... Because... um.." The barman bites his lip in embarrassment.


The flamingo says "Why the hell would I want that?!  I eat nothing but brine shrimp! Do I look like I want some shitty cocktail? I came in here to ask about my mom and this is the kind of treatment--"


"Well, what does she look like?" blurts the barman.


There is an awkward silence as the flamingo gawps incredulously. Then he turns and stalks out of the bar, muttering "All you people look the same to me too, y'know." 


On his way out he brushes rudely past a penguin who is just coming into the bar. "Woah buddy!" shouts the penguin.


The barman turns to a waitress: "Hey, I think that was Lupita's kid. He looked just like her." Then he turns to the penguin.



The moral of the story:

“If it looks like Lupita's kid, and it walks like Lupita's kid, and it talks like Lupita's kid; it's Lupita's kid."


The other moral of the story:

“One does not offer a Pink Lady. One always lets them ask for one.”





walks into a bar. 


He ambles over to the bar, but is unable to climb up on a stool. Being naturally low to the earth, and not built for much besides forcibly injecting his proboscis into anthills and dung mounds, he is entirely unable to even get the barman's attention. He shuffles back and forth sniffing at bits of pretzel, and beer drippings until, feeling humiliated, he quietly walks back out of the bar wondering where else he might get change for a twenty.





The moral of the story:

“Sometimes, even a non-sequitur has hidden meaning.”


The other moral of the story:

“Anteaters are people too.”





crawls into a bar...


He makes his way ever-so-slowly across the floor, until two hours later, he reaches the spot where the bar meets the floor, and then he begins the arduous climb up the bar. 


Several hours later he reaches the top. He signals the barman and orders a gin fizz. The barman is about to say "Sloe?" but thinks better of it. It is almost as if the slug had been baiting him, expecting him to reach for the most obvious joke.  Instead, he says "I need to see some I.D."

The slug looks crestfallen, at least as much as a faceless gastropod can look crestfallen. "Aw, shit. I knew I was forgetting something."  


He turns, and begins the long trek down the bar front and back across the floor to the front door.  He is nearly there when he is slurped up and devoured by an anteater.  



The moral of the story:

“Don't forget your wallet.”


The other moral of the story:

“Life is short.  Best to avoid anteaters.”




walks into a bar.



Shambles, more like.  The barman grabs his Glock .09 and his aluminum bat and is about to brain the zombie when the thing raises his hands:  "I just want to use your bathroom. Then I'll go. I don't want no trouble."

But the bar has a strict Customers Only policy in regards to the bathrooms. "You have to buy something. What can I get you ? A Painkiller?  ...or a Bloody Mary?  a....Zomb-"

"I'll have a Pink Lady, thanks." says the zombie and shuffles off to the bathroom.

When the zombie returns, he sits at the bar, and motions the barman over. "I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot?  Name's Gary. Used to work at Sears; sometimes me and the guys from Automotive used to come in here on Sundays. Like six, seven guys all in blue shirts?"

The barman nods, pretending to remember. He tries not to stare as one of Gary's ears peels off the side of his head and falls to the floor. 

Gary says: "Hey, there used to be this chick always hanging around named Lupita-” but the barman caves Gary's head in with the bat. 



The only moral of the story:

“Zombies don't need restrooms.  Never trust one who does.”






walks into a burned down bar.



The barman asks him "Who could have done this?"  


The fireman considers for a moment and then says quietly:

"Angry penguin."




The moral of the story:

“Really.  Don't f**k with penguins.”


The other moral of the story:

You figure it out man, I'm getting tired of this.