Tuesday Titters: Week 31; how well do you know your knots?

by Janie Jones

I can’t remember if I ever shared this particular joke with you.  I tried cruising my archives to see if I had, but gave up after I spent about 20 minutes getting lost in laughing at old posts.  So, I’m making the executive decision to tell it whether it’s been done here before or not because it is probably my most favorite shaggy dog story of all time.

A little background on this joke….

When I was a teeny-bopper, circa 1986, my parents had company.  Any company not related by marriage or blood was an event to be remembered, as my parents had no friends.  Probably because my dad is an ass, but that’s not the point of this story.  This gentleman visitor humored me and my brother by telling us jokes all night long.  I don’t remember any of them except this one, because in my mind they were your average, run of the mill knock-knock jokes, chicken cross the road jokes, and riddle jokes and I was way too old to be impressed by the likes of those jokes.  But then he told this joke.  I’d never heard a joke like this before.  And, with this joke my love affair with shaggy dog stories began.

A string had a very horrible day.  It was the worst day of his whole life, which was saying something.  As he was making his way home he decided to stop for a few drinks, hoping to forget about it all.  He found a little hole in the wall bar and hopping onto a bar stool called out for a shot of Tequila.   The bartender turned around and with a look of surprise said, “Hey, aren’t you a string?”

“Yeah.”  Said the string.

“You better get outta here.  We don’t serve your kind.”  Said the bartender.

“What?”  Said the string.

“You heard me.  We don’t serve your kind.  Now get.”

Confused the string tried to reason with the bartender.  “Look,” he said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.  I had a horrible day, and now I just want to drown myself in a bottle of Tequila.  My money is good.”  And, to prove his point the string slapped a fifty dollar bill on the bar.

Enraged, the bartender shoved the money back at the string and hollered, “I don’t care about your money or what kinda day you had.  We don’t serve strings here.  Get the Hell out of my bar or I’ll call the cops!”  At this point a few other customers rose up from their seats glaring at the string and flexing their muscles.

“All right!  All right!  I’m leaving!”  The string said as he backed away toward the door.

Once out in the street the string sagged against the wall of the bar.  He was angry, confused and he wanted that drink now more than ever.  Suddenly, an idea came to him.  He deftly folded his top half over and around his bottom half, until he looked like a pretzel.  Stretching his two ends away from each other he pulled until he had formed himself into a tight knot.  Then, with a smirk, he tore at the loose ends of himself until the fibers of his string body were frayed and strode purposefully back into the bar.

“Good evening bartender.  Gimme a Tequila, and leave the bottle!”  He jumped onto the stool and slapped his money on the bar.

The bartender looked him up and down and growled, “Hey, aren’t you that string I just sent packing?”

“Nope.  I’m a frayed knot.”

Happy Tuesday!

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2 Comments to “Tuesday Titters: Week 31; how well do you know your knots?”

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