Here I am, sitting in a bar, staring at my drink, lost in my thoughts. Suddenly, a large, imposing biker approaches me, grabs my drink, and gulps it down in one go. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” he says, his tone threatening, as if daring me to react.
Feeling overwhelmed, I reply, “Come on, man. I didn’t expect you to make me cry. I can’t handle seeing a man cry.”
“This is the worst day of my life,” I continue, pouring out my troubles. “I feel like a complete failure. I was late for a crucial meeting, and my boss ended up firing me. Then, when I went to the parking lot, I discovered that my car had been stolen, and I didn’t have insurance. To top it off, I left my wallet in the taxi I took home. And when I finally arrived, I found my wife with another man. And to add insult to injury, a dog even bit me. So, I came to this bar to gather the courage to put an end to it all. I bought a drink, dropped a capsule into it, and sat here watching the poison dissolve. And then you showed up and drank it all! But enough about me, how’s your day going?”
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