Bar Fly

Rooney owned an Irish pub in the Bronx, and in the summertime a swarm of flies seemed to just hover over the buffet table. This had been going on for about a month when O’Malley, the neighborhood mooch, walked in one day. ”I’m not giving you another free beer!” Rooney hollered, as he noticed O’Malley.

The drunk was not without a plan, however. He approached Rooney and offered him a deal. ”I been noticing these flies for the last weeks. If you’ll give me a shot, I’ll kill every one of them for you.”

Rooney gave him the agreed-upon shot. Once he had downed it, O’Malley got up and headed for the door.

”All right,” he shouted, ”send ’em out—-one at a time!”

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