[ WP ] A newly-hired bartender is slowly realizing that he 's working at the bar from all of those `` X walks into a bar '' jokes .

You think you're doing something smart for once in your goddamn life, and then this shit starts happening... 
 
 I hated busing. I hated the grime. I hated having to beg and plead to get my fair share of the tips from the waitresses, a bunch of undergrads who only had to undo their shirts a bit and lean over the customer to get a $ 40 gratuity on a $ 10 grilled cheese sandwich, which I'd have to fucking scrape off greasy plates with my bare hands. 
 
 It sucked. 
 
 So when Jimmy let me start tending bar, I was over the moon. I'm mean, obviously. I'd finally make a little money, sans the lower back pain and the dirty looks from old ladies as I'm clearing tables. 
 
 And I come in for my first shift the other night, looking great, feeling even better. It's dead, but it's 4 pm on a Tuesday. I'm not getting the primo shifts off the bat. About a half an hour in with no customers, I'm beginning to get bored. There's only so much glasswear you can clean when none of it's getting used in the first place. At 15 minutes to 5, this red-headed motherfucker in a kilt walks in bowlegged. Right behind him is this Jeeves-looking guy, monocle and cravat and everything, accompanied by what I can only describe as an overgrown Leprechaun. 
 
 They sit down, and I swear to Almighty God, not two minutes pass before the leprechaun is complaining about his wife being a gold digger, the butler is bitching about the damp Yankee weather, and the Scottsman is screaming that he wants a new beer; the English dude breathed on it, apparently, and `` now it tastes like a wee boy's asshole.'' 
 
 My head is spinning. Jimmy has n't even come in yet, and I do n't have the chops to manage this. But I do n't even had time to pick up the phone to call him, because *another* three dudes walk in. One's wearing a priest's collar, the guy next to him's got a yarmulke on, and the third is wearing some broken-down, 1970's-style dark blue suit and clutching a bible to his chest. 
 
 So, I walk away from the Scottsman, who's started haranguing the leprechaun for blowing up their car, and I go over to serve the three new guys. The bible-thumper is too busy staring at the ass of one of the waitresses to tell me what he wants to drink. Meanwhile, the collared guy is feverishly telling the Rabbi how the media `` just thinks priests are interested in fucking the laity.'' I had to turn away when Rabbi answered, `` Out of what?'' 
 
 Now, you're gon na think I'm pulling your leg when I tell you what happens next, but I swear on my dead grandmother's grave, a ***fucking PANDA and a TALKING MUSHROOM*** walk into the bar. The mushroom is going on and on about what a blast he is, and before I know it, the panda takes a bite out of the mushroom. The mushroom starts hollering somthing fierce just as the Panda pulls a **glock** out of God knows where and *aims it at my head. * I roll over faster than a Congressman in front of a blank check and flatten myself against the floor, just as this panda shoots every single goddamn liquor bottle behind me. 
 
 When the bullets finally stop coming, I look up and see the panda's gone. No one's saying a word. I tell you, right then and there, I grabbed my goddamn jacket and went straight home. 
 
 Tell Jimmy he can find a new bartender.
