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Old 02-12-2018, 07:22 AM   #1
J_B
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Join Date: Aug 2008
Location: NW Montana
Age: 67
Posts: 13,730
Default Hows your day going

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

"So 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! But enough about me, how's your day going?"
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They call me a Fudd (Fatal Urban Dealer of Death) because I carry a .45 ACP
(1) 45 ACP = (2) 9MM
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