My grandfather told me this joke when I was four (although I probably didn’t understand it until I was eight), and, although it isn’t nearly as funny as the interrupting cow joke, I do have some odd fixation with it.
A man walked into a bar looking a bit tired, disheveled, and all around miserable. He sat down at the bar and ordered a double while making the casual small talk with the bar tender that all distraught men do.
He received his drink and began to drown his sorrow when he noticed an average man wearing a pathetically thick pair of horned rim glasses and an even more pathetic expression on his face.
Recognizing each others misery the two men compared their sorrow and shared their war stories about work, money, and women. Of course, as the night wore on and the two consumed more and more alcohol, their conversation became much more casual and the conversation was much more enjoyable.
Around eleven thirty the man in the horn rimmed glasses leaned over to his new found friend and ginned a conspiratorial grin, “What if I told you that between midnight and quarter after you can dive off of the Liberty building (the cities tallest building), hurtle down to the ground, touch the street with you index finger, and be magically lifted safely back to the roof.”
“Sir,” replied the other man, “I believe you have had a bit too much to drink.”
The man in the horn rimmed glasses smiled, “C’mon, I can prove it.”
It was a minute after midnight and both the men stood half drunk on the roof of the Liberty building. The man in the horn rimmed glasses smiled, and, before his compatriot could protest, dove off of the building. The other man stared down in horror as his new friend plummeted to the street below. His horror, however, was soon replaced by wonder and awe as the man slowed as he reached the street, touched the pavement with his index finger, and was quickly hurtled through the air, back to the safety of the roof.
“See, I told you so,” the man said as adjusted his horned rimmed glasses. “You want to give it a shot?”
The other man nodded and dove off the building, screaming in excitement as he plummeted to the street. The jovial scream was cut short by a rather unpleasant “splat” when the man hit the road at a very rapid velocity.
The man with the horn rimmed glasses walked back into the bar and ordered another shot.
“Hey Bill,” the man said to the bartender, “why don’t you put my bill on my buddies tab.”
The bartender looked warily at the man in the horn rimmed glasses. “Jesus Christ Superman, you are a real son of a bitch when you are drunk.”
