Yankel sits at the bar, staring into his bourbon when a large biker with a swastika tattooed on his forehead grabs his drink and downs it.
“Thanks for the drink, Jew-boy! Got something to say about it?”
Yankel bursts into tears.
“Come on, Jew-boy, I didn’t think you’d cry about it. Man up!”
“This is the worst day of my life.”
“Yeah? You saw a dollar and someone else picked it up?”
“I was late to work and my boss fired me. I went back to my car and found someone keyed it. I pulled out of the parking lot and totaled it. I still owe the car loan, and my credit cards – I’ll never pay ’em off. I took the bus home and found my wife in bed with my best friend. So I came here to work up the courage to end it all. I bought a bourbon, dropped the capsule in, I was watching the poison dissolve when you showed up and drank the whole thing. Nu, enough about me. How’s your day going?”
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Image by Randall Hill