The Golden Saloon


A guy comes home three sheets to the wind and all three sheets ripping bad,
Budweiser’s sloshing around in his belly like a keg adrift in a roiling sea.
He sloshes through the door and is met by his wife, who is scowling,
figuring he’s been out jumping new bones.

“”Where the hell you been all night?”” she demands.

“”At this fantastic new saloon,”” he says. “”The Golden Saloon. Everything
there is golden.””

“”Bullshit! There’s no such place!””

Guy says, “”Sure there is! Joint’s got huge golden doors, a golden floor.
Hell, even the urinal’s gold!””

The wife still doesn’t believe his story, and the next day checks the phone
book, finding a place across town called the Golden Saloon. She calls up
the place to check her husband’s story. “”Is this the Golden Saloon?”” she
asks when the bartender answers the phone.

“”Yes, it is,”” bartender answers.

“”Do you have huge golden doors?””

“”Sure do.””

“”Do you have golden floors?””

“”Most certainly do.””

“”What about golden urinals?””

There’s a long pause, then the woman hears the bartender yelling, “”Hey,
Duke, I think I got a lead on the guy who pissed in your saxophone!””

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