Bears and Beer

Regrettably by Phillip Varady Sr

I was briefly in a bar in Boise when a big brown bear barged in.

"Bartender!" barked the bear. "Bring me your best brew."

Bristling, the bartender brought to the bear’s attention that there was a ban on serving beer to bears in bars in Boise.

"Buster," the bear bellowed, banging his big brown paw on the bar, "you’d better bring me a beer before I become a big bad bear."

The bartender brought out a big black billy club and beat it on the bar. "I’m not going to break the ban and serve beer to a belligerent bear in a bar in Boise, buddy. Beat it!"

Bouncing back from the bar, the bear beheld a big-breasted bleary-eyed blond bombshell beside a bottle of booze.

"Barkeep," the bear beckoned to the bartender, "the babe is breakfast if this bear doesn’t get a beer in this blasted bar."

Being a bit blasé, the bartender called his bluff.

"I bet you think being a bully bothers me but bears get no beer in bars in Boise, Bozo."

The bear wasn’t bluffing; he butchered the babe, bite by bite, and brought his big bad self back to the bar. "Better bring that beer now or I’ll be a bigger bastard than before," the bear said, baring his teeth.

"Bears get no beer in bars in Boise when they’re on drugs," beamed the bartender.

"Drugs?" The bewildered bear blathered. "Beer has been my only bad habit. You’d better be brief and blunt, what drugs?"

"Boy, are you a blockhead," the bartender berated the bear. "Don’t you know? That was a bar bitch you ate!"