Monday morning writing joke: “The bill”

To celebrate the recent publication of his chapbook, a poet walks into a local bar and orders drink and drink and drink, until closing time, when the waitress presents him with the bill.

Inebriated and irritated, the poet looks at the bar tab and yells, “This bill has no rhyme or meter. I refuse to recognize this … this repulsive, wreckage requiring recompense. This is pure assonance!”

He stands up from his table and sloshes toward the door, whereupon he is greeted by the bartender holding a Grecian urn over his head. Staring at the poet, he says, “You will pay what is ode.”