“Can I draw you a beer Norm?” “No, I know what they look like.
Just pour me one.”
“How’s a beer sound Norm?” “I dunno. I usually finish them
before they get a word in.”
“What’s shaking Norm?” “All four cheeks and a couple of chins.”
“What would you say to a nice beer Normie?” “Going down?”
[Norm comes in depressed. He just stands by the door with a
sullen face.] [mutters]”Afternoon, everybody.” “Norm!” “What’s
new Normie?” “Terrorists, Sam. They’ve taken over my stomach,
and they’re demanding beer.”
“What’ll it be Normie?” “Just the usual coach. I’ll have a froth
of beer and a snorkel.”
“What would you say to a beer Normie?” “Daddie wuvs you.”
“What’d you like Normie?” “A reason to live. Give me another
beer.”
“What’ll you have Normie?” “Well I’m in a gambling mood, Sammy.
I’ll take a glass of whatever comes out of that tap.” “Oh, looks
like beer, Norm.” “Call me Mister Lucky.”
“What’d you say Norm?” “Any cheap, tawdry thing that’ll get me a
beer.”
“What’d you say to a beer Norm?” “Hiya, sailor. New in town?”
[coming in from the rain] “Evening everybody.” “Still pouring
Norm?” “That’s funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Whaddya say, Norm?” “Well, I never met a beer I didn’t drink.
And down it goes.”
“Hey Norm, How’s the world been treating you?” “Like a baby
treats a diper.”
“Would you like a beer Mr. Peterson?” “No, I’s like a dead cat
in a glass.”
“How’s life treating you?” “It’s not, Sammy, but you can.”
“What’s the story Mr. Peterson.” “The Bobbsey twins go to the
brewery. Let’s cut to the happy ending.”
“Hey, My. Peterson, there’s a cold one waiting for you.” “I
know, and if she calls, I’m not here.”
“Beer, Norm?” “Have I gotten that predictable? Good.”
“What’s going on, Mr. Peterson?” “A flashing sign in my gut that
says, ‘Insert beer here.'”
“Hey Mr. Peterson, Jack Frost nipping at your nose?” “Yep, now
let’s get Joe Beer nipping at my liver ,huh?”
“What’s going on Mr. Peterson?” “Another layer for the winter,
Wood.”
“Whatcha up to Norm?” “My ideal weight if I were eleven feet
tall.”
“How’s it going Mr. Peterson?” “Poor.” “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No, I mean pour.”
“How’s life treating you Norm?” “Like it caught me sleeping with
its’ wife.”
“Women, can’t live with ’em…..pass the beer nuts.”
“What’s going down, Normie?” “My butt cheeks on that bar stool.”
“Pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson?” “Allright, but stop me at
one….make that one thirty.”
“How’s it going Mr. Peterson?” “It’s a dog eat dog world, Woody,
and I’m wearing Milk Bone underwear.”
“How’s about a beer, Norm?” “That’s that amber sudsy stuff,
right? I’ve heard good things about it!”
“What’s going on Mr. Peterson?” “The question is what’s going in
Mr. Peterson?” “A little early isn’t it, Woody?” “For a beer?”
“No, for stupid Questions.”
And, the best for last
“When I go, I want to die peacefully in my sleep like my
grandfather, not screaming in terror like the other three people
in his car.”