A prospector comes down from the mountain after fruitlessly panning for gold and walks into the only bar in the rinky-dink town and says “Gimme a whiskey.”
The barkeep pours him a drink and asks “Any luck?”
“No,” says the prospector, “and it’s mighty cold and lonely up there.” The prospector leans in close to the barkeep and asks “You wouldn’t happen to have any whores in town, would ya?”
“Naw,” says the barkeep, “no whores. But we got Old Joe. He services the whole town. He’s fat and hairy, and stinks a bit, but he has holes in all the right places.”
“Oh God,” says the prospector, recoiling in disgust, “no way! I don’t go for that sh!t!” The prospector pays for his drink and heads back into the mountains, still reeling from the repulsive image.
One month later the prospector returns for supplies and steps into the bar, shouting “Gimme a whiskey!”
The barkeep pours him a drink and asks “Any luck?”
“No,” says the prospector. “It’s still cold and lonely, and last week I had an erotic dream about my mule. Any chance a whore decided to set up shop while I’ve been away?”
“Naw,” says the barkeep, “no whores yet. But we still got Old Joe. He’s fat enough to have titties, if that helps.”
“Bleh,” says the prospector, “that’s horrible! And I told you before, I don’t go for that sh!t!” The prospector pays for his drink and heads back into the mountains, trying to rid his brain of the image of Old Joe’s man-boobs.
One month later the prospector rides into town and walks in the bar, grinning and yelling “By God, gimme a whiskey!”
The barkeep pours him a drink and asks “Any luck?”
“Hell yes!” says the prospector. “Found me a nugget big as a goodly-sized booger, and I’m in a celebratin’ mood!” He leaned in close to the barkeep. “Please, pretty please, tell me you went and hired a whore.”
“Well,” says the barkeep, “we did get a whore last week, but she got herself et by a grizzly, so we’re back to Old Joe. However, there’s good news - his last tooth finally rotted outta his mouth, so you don’t have to worry ‘bout teeth-marks no more.”
“Ugh,” says the prospector, shuddering. “But dammit, I gotta celebrate, and I’m tired of chokin’ my chicken (besides, my hands are really chapped).” He leans in even closer to the barkeep. “If I was to have a poke at Old Joe, who would know about it?”
“Let’s see,” says the barkeep. “There’s you, of course, there’s me, there’s Old Joe, and there are the other two guys.”
“The other two guys?” asks the prospector.
“The other two guys holding Old Joe down. He don’t go for that sh!t either.”
The barkeep pours him a drink and asks “Any luck?”
“No,” says the prospector, “and it’s mighty cold and lonely up there.” The prospector leans in close to the barkeep and asks “You wouldn’t happen to have any whores in town, would ya?”
“Naw,” says the barkeep, “no whores. But we got Old Joe. He services the whole town. He’s fat and hairy, and stinks a bit, but he has holes in all the right places.”
“Oh God,” says the prospector, recoiling in disgust, “no way! I don’t go for that sh!t!” The prospector pays for his drink and heads back into the mountains, still reeling from the repulsive image.
One month later the prospector returns for supplies and steps into the bar, shouting “Gimme a whiskey!”
The barkeep pours him a drink and asks “Any luck?”
“No,” says the prospector. “It’s still cold and lonely, and last week I had an erotic dream about my mule. Any chance a whore decided to set up shop while I’ve been away?”
“Naw,” says the barkeep, “no whores yet. But we still got Old Joe. He’s fat enough to have titties, if that helps.”
“Bleh,” says the prospector, “that’s horrible! And I told you before, I don’t go for that sh!t!” The prospector pays for his drink and heads back into the mountains, trying to rid his brain of the image of Old Joe’s man-boobs.
One month later the prospector rides into town and walks in the bar, grinning and yelling “By God, gimme a whiskey!”
The barkeep pours him a drink and asks “Any luck?”
“Hell yes!” says the prospector. “Found me a nugget big as a goodly-sized booger, and I’m in a celebratin’ mood!” He leaned in close to the barkeep. “Please, pretty please, tell me you went and hired a whore.”
“Well,” says the barkeep, “we did get a whore last week, but she got herself et by a grizzly, so we’re back to Old Joe. However, there’s good news - his last tooth finally rotted outta his mouth, so you don’t have to worry ‘bout teeth-marks no more.”
“Ugh,” says the prospector, shuddering. “But dammit, I gotta celebrate, and I’m tired of chokin’ my chicken (besides, my hands are really chapped).” He leans in even closer to the barkeep. “If I was to have a poke at Old Joe, who would know about it?”
“Let’s see,” says the barkeep. “There’s you, of course, there’s me, there’s Old Joe, and there are the other two guys.”
“The other two guys?” asks the prospector.
“The other two guys holding Old Joe down. He don’t go for that sh!t either.”
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