Thanking Where It’s Due

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At the end of a great day, this guy in high spirits walks into a bar in Central London and before he could order his drink, he notices a Sardar sitting quietly in a corner.

He says loudly to the bartender to the advantage of everyone seated in the bar, “Drinks for everyone in here, except for the chap over there.”

The first round of drinks were served, and the Sardar gives him a smile, gestures to him saying, “Thank you!” in a loud voice.

The guy is upset and again orders loudly to the bartender to serve another round of drinks to everyone except the Sardar.

The Sardar seems to be unruffled and he continues to smile, and yells back, “Thank you!”

The guy is mad by now and asks the bartender, “What’s wrong with this Sardar? I’ve insulted him by ordering drinks for everyone but him, and yet he smiles back and keeps thanking me. Has he lost his mind?”

“No, Sir,” replies the bartender. “He owns this place.”

End
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Credit: santabanta.com, openclipart.com (roshellin)

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What’s A Dollar Between Friends?

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Credit: wackywits.com

By George!

Mildred, the church gossip and self-appointed monitor of the church’s morals, kept sticking her nose in to other people’s business.
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Several members did not approve of her extra curricular activities, but feared her enough to maintain their silence.
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One day she accused George, a new member, of being an alcoholic after she saw his old pickup parked in front of the small town’s only bar one afternoon.
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She emphatically told George and several others that everyone seeing it there would know what he was doing.
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George, a man of few words, stared at her for a moment and just turned and walked away.
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He didn’t explain, defend, nor deny.

He said nothing.

Later that evening, George quietly parked his pickup in front of Mildred’s house
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… walked home

….and left it there all night.

End

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Credits: wackywits.com

If Pigs Can Fly, Poodles Can Race

The bar was not exactly busy in the evening hour with just one group of regulars already wet on a couple of rounds and dry on conversation. Marty was loudly speculating on what was taxing the mind of the lone fly motionless on the ceiling. While Willie was half way through counting the rats in trance following the piper walking away to the distant horizon on a large wall-poster covering a good part of the wall at the far end. And, their three other light-headed mates engaged in similar interests.

Just then stirring up things was Lino entering the bar. All eyes immediately turned on him and on the poodle he held fast to his chest. The barman was immediately on his feet. The regulars came to his defense:

‘George, let him in. That thing seems to be dead – so it’s not a pet anymore. You have no rules against that.’

The wary barman took a real hard look from close quarters and was more pressed than persuaded to allow Lino in.

Lino settled himself on a stool, ready to order.

George was still fixed on the poodle: ‘But tell me, why you hug that thing so tightly? Wouldn’t be going anywhere any soon?’

‘You wrong my pony there, my friend. I’ll have you know he has won every contest he entered so far.’

‘Contest, eh?’

‘Yes. I’ll kick off with a tenner. He’s fleeter than the fleetest. Standing here, if I let him go – mark my words – my pony will smack the rear of the piper out there sooner than anyone here. Any views on that?’

Marty, Willie and their mates were distracted from their preoccupation by what they heard. Was he kidding them? Apparently not. And they were not of the kind to drop a sitter lobbed at them and this was one. Who were they to object if some fool was growing weary of his weighty wallet? In a short while the table saw many more tenners laid out and Willie was unanimously selected as their entry for the patently uneven contest.

Poodle barbara-hranilovich

The course was cleared of the chairs, tables and other obstacles, running from one end to the wall at the far end that held up the piper. With nothing better to do, the barman agreed to be the referee to break his boredom. A metal plate and a spoon to strike were the referee’s trigger pistol for the race. The contestants – Willie and the poodle held by Lino – stood ready like pointed arrows at the starting block.

The gong sounded.

In less than two winks, the race was all over – pony had smacked the piper’s rear even before Willie was at the quarter mark.

Jaws dropped in disbelief, heads shook in disgust, voices raised in protest – but the referee had no choice but to declare the poodle as the winner, seeing no violation of Lino’s exact words of claim.

Lino walked away into the night with the unassuming winner tucked under his arm, gazes burning his back, booty in his pocket, and showing only a little strain for all his efforts. The poodle was no worse for the throw and the thump than a small tear at its seams.

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Credits: The painting ‘Poodle Jumping’ is from fineartamerica.com and the artist Barbara Hranilovich at hranilovich.com/.

What’s A Dog’s Lifetime?

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A guy walks into a bar with a dachshund under his arm.

The bartender says, ‘Hey! No pets allowed in here! You’ll have to leave!’

The man begs, ‘Look I’m desperate for a drink. And there are no other bars nearby.’

After securing a promise that the dog will behave and warning him that if there is any trouble they will be thrown out, the bartender relents and allows them to stay in the bar.

It’s news time on the large-screen TV in the far end. When it came to the Central Bureau Of Investigation (equivalent of FBI in India) cornering some senior government officers on charges of corruption and nepotism, the dog jumps up on the bar and begins walking up and down the bar giving everyone a high-five.

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The man is apologetic: ‘You know, the one thing he cannot stand is crime.’

The bartender says, ’Wow that is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen! And all that show for a mere arrest. What does he do when these guys get their just desserts and sent to jail?’

‘I don’t know,’ replies the owner, ‘I’ve only had him for eight years.’

End

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Credit: Adapted from arcmax.com. I’ve lost track of the sources for the gif’s.