GrayZ
04-23-2008, 10:55 AM
OLD FIGHTER PILOT>
>
> He was a ragged looking old man who shuffled into the bar that
> afternoon.
> Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took
> the "Piano Player
> Wanted" sign from the window and gave it to the bartender.
>
> "I'd like to apply for the job," he said. The bar-keep wasn't
> too sure about
> this doubtful looking old guy, but it had been awhile since
> he had a player
> and business was falling off.
>
> "What do you do?" he asked.
>
> "I used to be a F-4 fighter pilot in Vietnam," was the
> answer.
>
> Now, really unsure, the bar-keep decided to give him a try;
> he really needed
> more business.
>
> "The piano is over there, give it a go."
>
> The old man staggered his way over to the piano and several
> patrons
> snickered. But, by the time he was into the third bar of
> music, every voice was
> silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of sound and music
> unlike anyone had ever
> heard in the bar before.
>
> When he finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The ba
> rtender
> brought the old guy a beer and said that he sounded really,
> really good. "What do
> you call that?" he asked.
>
> "It's called "Drop Your Panties, Baby, We're Gonna Rock
> Tonight," said the
> old pilot as he took along pull from the beer.
>
> "I got another," and he began to play again. What followed
> was a
> knee-slappin', hand-clappin' bit of ragtime that had the
> place jumping. People were
> coming in from the streets to hear this guy play.
>
> After he finished, the pilot acknowledged the applause and
> told the crowd
> that the song was called "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner
> Dance."
>
> He then excused himself as he lurched off to the men's room.
> After thinking
> a bit, the bartender decided to hire the guy, no matter how
> bad he looked, or
> what his songs were called. When the guy came out of the
> men's room, the
> bartender went over to tell him he had the job, but noticed
> that the old fighter
> pilot's fly was undone and his member was hanging out.
>
> He said, "The job is yours, but first I got to ask, do you
> know your fly is
> open and your dick is hanging out?"
>
> "Know it? hell, I wrote it!" the pilot replied.
>
>
> He was a ragged looking old man who shuffled into the bar that
> afternoon.
> Stinking of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took
> the "Piano Player
> Wanted" sign from the window and gave it to the bartender.
>
> "I'd like to apply for the job," he said. The bar-keep wasn't
> too sure about
> this doubtful looking old guy, but it had been awhile since
> he had a player
> and business was falling off.
>
> "What do you do?" he asked.
>
> "I used to be a F-4 fighter pilot in Vietnam," was the
> answer.
>
> Now, really unsure, the bar-keep decided to give him a try;
> he really needed
> more business.
>
> "The piano is over there, give it a go."
>
> The old man staggered his way over to the piano and several
> patrons
> snickered. But, by the time he was into the third bar of
> music, every voice was
> silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of sound and music
> unlike anyone had ever
> heard in the bar before.
>
> When he finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The ba
> rtender
> brought the old guy a beer and said that he sounded really,
> really good. "What do
> you call that?" he asked.
>
> "It's called "Drop Your Panties, Baby, We're Gonna Rock
> Tonight," said the
> old pilot as he took along pull from the beer.
>
> "I got another," and he began to play again. What followed
> was a
> knee-slappin', hand-clappin' bit of ragtime that had the
> place jumping. People were
> coming in from the streets to hear this guy play.
>
> After he finished, the pilot acknowledged the applause and
> told the crowd
> that the song was called "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner
> Dance."
>
> He then excused himself as he lurched off to the men's room.
> After thinking
> a bit, the bartender decided to hire the guy, no matter how
> bad he looked, or
> what his songs were called. When the guy came out of the
> men's room, the
> bartender went over to tell him he had the job, but noticed
> that the old fighter
> pilot's fly was undone and his member was hanging out.
>
> He said, "The job is yours, but first I got to ask, do you
> know your fly is
> open and your dick is hanging out?"
>
> "Know it? hell, I wrote it!" the pilot replied.
>