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

“Well, whatcha’ gonna do about it?” he says, menacingly, as 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 crying.”

 “This is the worst day of my life,” I say.

 “I’m a complete failure.

 “I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me.

 “When I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don’t have any insurance.

 “I left my wallet in the cab I took to get home.

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

 “I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all.

 “I buy a drink; I drop a capsule in and sit here watching the poison dissolve. Then you show up and drink the whole thing down.

 “But hell, enough about me, how are you doing?”