New Year’s Eve

‘Barman, a cup of dark chocolate and 60 marshmallows and don’t go easy on the hundreds of thousands,” said the man on New Year’s Eve.

He was an iconoclast.

“Are you sure you don’t want a pint of lager or a large glass of red wine or a double JD?” said the barman.

He was a thinking man, this barman, and was busy writing a thesis on whether all intelligent life forms create the same complex and redundant and unequal social structures like human beings.

“Sir, it is New Year’s Eve and we are on the precipice of another year of whatever and by gosh I want to celebrate the end of this year of whatever with a cup of dark chocolate and 74 marshmallows and be generous with the Jimmies.”

“Didn’t you say 64 marshmallows?”

“64 or 70 squire, it’s all relative.”

The barman smiled on the outside and laughed on the inside.

“Take a pew and i’ll be with you in five,” the barman said.

The iconoclast took off his hat and bowed flamboyantly.

“From one gentleman to another sir, you rock like a rock and roll sandwich.”

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