A writer sitting on a stool in the corner bar looks over at the bartender. “I’ve tried everything for my joints. Pain medications, homeopathic remedies, strange herbs. I’ve swallowed Glucosamine tablets, Turmeric powder, and honey and cinnamon for my aching joints, but nothing relieves my pain.”
Bartender: “When is it at its worst?”
Writer: “When I’m asked to pay my bar tab.”
The bartender immediately felt a bit of joint pain himself.
Filed under 2016, Monday morning writing joke
A man sitting on a stool in the corner bar looks over at the bartender. “I’ve tried everything for my joints. Pain medications, homeopathic remedies, strange herbs. I’ve swallowed Glucosamine tablets, Turmeric powder, and honey and cinnamon for my aching joints, but nothing relieves my pain.”
Bartender: “When is it at its worst?”
Man: “When I’m asked to pay my bar tab.”
The bartender immediately felt a bit of joint pain himself.
Filed under 2016, Monday morning writing joke
Walking carries pain; /
joints pronounce the weight of years; /
limp encodes effort.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Each raindrop touches /
one moment of forgotten /
pain on the window.
Filed under Haiku to You Thursday, poetry by author
Wise author Paul Coelho writes: Contrary to glasses and windows, a broken heart remains intact.
Unwise wit responds: That’s because it’s a pain of a different sort.
The window pain ... in The Twilight Zone.
Filed under pain, Paul Coelho, wit, Woirds to live by, word play, words, writer
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