A Wildly Unattractive Woman Demanded a Drink. Only One Slurring Drunk Knew Why She Was a ‘Ballerina.’
It was a quiet afternoon at the local tavern when a massive, thoroughly unkempt, and incredibly sweaty woman barged through the double doors. She was wearing a raggedy, stained, sleeveless sundress and brought a cloud of hostility with her.
She marched right up to the center of the lounge, aggressively hoisted her right arm high into the air—revealing an impressively large, bushy, and hairy armpit—and pointed a finger at the crowd.
“What kind of real man in this joint is going to step up and buy a beautiful lady a drink?!” she boomed.
The entire bar went dead silent. Patrons immediately averted their eyes, intensely studying their coasters and praying she wouldn’t make eye contact.
But at the far end of the counter, a skinny, completely wasted local drunk slammed his fist onto the mahogany bar and slurred at the bartender, “Hey, barkeep! I want to buy that gorgeous ballerina a drink!”
The bartender shrugged, poured a stiff shot, and handed it over. The woman grabbed the glass and chugged it down in one aggressive gulp.
The Encore Performance
As soon as she slammed the empty glass back down, she turned right back to the crowd. Once again, she violently hoisted her arm straight into the air, flaunting that remarkably hairy armpit for the second time.
“Alright, losers!” she yelled. “What man out there is going to buy a real lady another drink?!”
Once again, the little drunkard slapped his hand on the bar, swayed on his stool, and cheered, “Barkeep! Fill her up! I’d like to buy the beautiful ballerina another round!”
The bartender poured the second drink, and the woman pounded it back before wandering off toward the jukebox. Curious and completely bewildered, the bartender leaned over the counter, tapped the little drunk on the shoulder, and whispered:
“Look, pal, it’s your money and your business if you want to buy her drinks. But I’ve gotta ask… why on earth do you keep calling her a ballerina?”
The drunk took a slow sip of his own beer, grinned with a glaze over his eyes, and whispered back:
“Are you blind, mate? In my eyes, any woman who can lift her leg up that high has got to be a professional ballerina!”
