Service, Please
Service, Please
A beautiful woman went up to the bar in a quiet rural tavern. She gestured alluringly to the bartender who approached her immediately.
The woman motioned for him to come closer. Leaning in, she gently caressed his beard.
Using her seductive voice, she asked, “Are you the manager?” All the while, she softly caressed his beard with one of her hands.
“Actually, no,” he replied.
“Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him,” she said, running her other hand beyond his beard and into his hair.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” breathed the flustered bartender. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, I need for you to give him a message,” she continued, running her forefinger across the bartender’s lip.
“What should I tell him?” the bartender managed to stammer.
“Tell him,” she whispered, “Tell him there’s no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the ladies’ room.”
