A rope walks into a bar.
A rope walks into a bar and orders a drink.
The bartender says "We don't serve your kind 'round 'ere!" and tosses him out.
The rope, really in need of a drink since his main string just left him for a lasso, ties himself in a knot over sorrow, throws himself on the ground, and rolls down the heavily inclined street, bouncing into fencing, trees, garbage cans, and a small child.
The rope, now barely recognizable, picks himself up, marches back into the bar, and demands his beverage of choice. The bartender looks up, suspiciously, and asks "Ain't you that rope I just threw outta 'ere?"
The rope retorts "No, sir, I'm a frayed knot." Read More