Ok, three people walk into a bar: an actress, a singer, and a defense attorney.
The bartender gives them a long look before saying:
‘What is this, some kind of a joke?’
The three look at each other, dumbfounded.
Peter, the singer says: ‘Um…not that I know; we just stopped by for a drink.’, and orders a beer.
Bartender: ‘You want that in a WHEELBARROW?”
Pete’s like ‘Duh’, and answers calmly ‘No, in a glass. And my friend here. she’ll have a glass of wine.’
Bartender: ‘No problem. I have a nice white wine… and it’s flavored with Rosemary’ This said while looking at Mia, the actress… and waiting for a reaction… which doesn’t happen.
Frustrated, the bartender remarks to her: ‘You do look a bit thin; sure you don’t want a burger with that?’
Mia, deflecting the un-requested medical advice, says cheerfully: ‘No thanks, I’m actually a vegetarian.’
The Bartender, too loutish to feel chastened, just has to persist:
‘So what do you people live on, SPARROW MARROW?’
At this point Clarence, the D.A. in the three-some, decides to weigh in:
“Sir, lots of folks all over the world do quite well on a meat-less diet.”
This time the Bartender allows a closer peak at his true agenda:
“Where, in the Faroe Islands?”
Clarence, (a sharper mind might not exist), draws out the Bartender with a bait:
“Actually, I was thinking of the farm fields of Ohio, the ‘breadbasket of the US’.”
The Bartender, plunging in, grabs the hook:
“Oh yeah, where you have to HARROW the fields all spring. And then weed the NARROW rows of corn.”
Clarence: “Actually, it’s mainly done with machines these days.”
Pete and Mia glance at each other… and at their watches. They’ve both read about their lawyer-buddy’s spending 12 hours in court on a witness to win a case. But damn, all they wanted was a drink!
The bartender tries one last desperate hint:
“Ok folks, sorry for kinda monkeying around; I just like to scope out my customers.”
Clarence, happy to put another win in his resume, shares a glance at his two friends. At this point the question was whether to move on, drink-less, to a different watering hole… or to wait, they hoped perhaps in vain, for no further attempts by the Bartender to destroy their precious anonymity. (That blogger jsolberg’s readers could always be counted on to supply the last critical puzzle-piece, and the trio knew it.)
Peter checked his cell for the address of the ‘Arrowhead Inn’. Walking distance. They walked the five blocks thirstier than ever for a simple gulp of an elixir which cared not who they were.
Hey the bartender could have simply asked for autographs.