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One day a fellow came into the bar with a cat, not just any cat, but a mean-looking ginger tom.
You could see the scars from across the room.
But that wasn’t the weirdest thing; a six-foot ostrich – eyes like golf balls, followed them in – a real live ostrich! I asked the man what he wanted.
“I’ll have a pint of bitter,” he said.
“A pint of lager for the ostrich and a gin and tonic for the cat.”
The cat hissed at him. “Make that a double gin and tonic. Thanks.”
Well, I served the drinks, he paid, and they all knocked ’em back. Wasn’t long before the ostrich came back to the bar, and made it clear that it wanted the same again.
Well, I poured them.
I could feel the cat’s eyes burning through me as if he was checking that he got his double again.
I took the drinks over to them, and the man paid, taking the cash from a purse tied around the ostrich’s neck.
This went on for a couple of hours.
The man and the ostrich buying alternate rounds, while the cat just sat on the window shelf with his drink, looking fit to kill.
The whole place got quiet. People sat and stared, and who could blame them? Eventually, I plucked up the courage to ask the fellow just what was going on.
“Can’t a man have a quiet drink anymore?” he rasped.
So I said, “No harm meant, but you’ve got to admit that you’re a unique set of drinkers. He smiled, but there was no light in that smile.”
“Okay, you want to know? I’ll tell you.”
“I was across town the other week, working on the new road. Amid the dirt and the rubble, I turned up this old brass lamp. I rubbed it, thinking there might be a date or inscription or something. Anyway, out comes this cloud of smoke and a Genie appeared. You know – turban, scimitar, and the whole works. And he tells me I’ve got just one wish.”
“And before you ask, yes, I did wish for a long-legged bird with a tight pu$sy. But this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
