Here’s a little story for the kiddies out there who frequent the local taverns and pubs:

My brother, a friend and I were out one night enjoying a drink and some light conversation when a disheveled, 30-something dipsomaniac stumbled confidently up to our table. Now, had I been in normal society I would have politely ignored him and held firmly to my lie that I had no change to spare. But, I have been in my share of bars and I know that when some people drink they become overtly friendly. So, no social graces have been breached. We exchanged our hellos and he introduced himself while he stumbled through his muttered attempt at banter. Afterwards, “Santos”, and I am calling him Santos because that is in fact his real name and I want you all to know exactly who I am talking about in case you run into the guy, asked us if we would like some shots because he would go get them at the bar. We rarely turn down a shot. So we agreed, gave him our order and thanked him. While he was away we all questioned each other if anyone knew who he was. Needless to say, emphatic no. And then he was promptly back with our shots. He smiled with a sense of self-accomplishment. The kind of smile a baby gets when he craps in the toilet by himself for the first time. Drool and all. That or he was just waiting for his eyes to refocus. Maybe a little of both. We all toasted and took our shot. We thanked him again and he politely walked away.

A good five minuets later he comes back asking for money. We were all stunned. Money? Yes, you know. Money to pay for the shots. Curse you Santos and your wily ways. We all refused and stormed out of the bar. Santos followed us out screaming about his money. So, we all prison-style shanked him in the alley like a stool pigeon that cooed one too many times.

Moral:
Don’t go up to a table and ask for drink orders and expect to be paid unless you are a waitress.

A sidenote. We didn’t actually stab him. It just sounds a lot better then what really happened. That being, we asked him what the hell he was talking about, gave him somewhere around two dollars and later leaving the bar feeling, for the most part, confused.

"Men were designed for short, nasty, brutal lives. Women are designed for long, miserable ones."

- Dr. Estelle Ramey