It Behooves Me...

...to tell a joke.  It's been some time.  You have to say this one aloud.

Okay, one day in a tough dusty town, a piece of string walks into a bar.  He sits on a bar stool and says to the bartender, "I'd like a whiskey."  The bartender says, "We don't serve your kind here! GET OUT!"  The piece of string exits hastily.  Puzzled, he walks around the block, then re-enters the bar.  He wiggles up to the counter, sits on a stool, and says to the bartender, "Whiskey, please!"  The bartender narrows his eyes, grabs the piece of string by his stringy throat, and says, "I SAID WE DON'T SERVE STRING HERE!  I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT!!!"  He drags the piece of string to the swinging doors, shoves him through, and throws him out onto the road, then goes back inside.

The piece of string lies there for a minute, catching his breath.  At last he gets up and brushes himself off.  He bends over and sort of loops himself around, then puts up his hand and musses up the top of his head.   He takes a deep breath and goes back into the bar.  He walks boldly up to the counter, rests against it, and calls out, "Whiskey!"  

The bartender comes over, squints at him, and says, "Are you a piece of string?"  And the piece of string looks him squarely in the eye and says, "No, I'm afraid not." (say it aloud)

I love that joke.