Old Pilot:
A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar. Stinking of
whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player
Wanted" sign from the window and handed it to the bartender.
"I'd like to apply for the job," he said. "I was an F-4 driver and
a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force, but when they retired the
Phantom, all the thrill was gone, and soon they cashiered me as well. I
learned to play the piano at O-Club happy hours, so here I am."
The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it
had been quite a while since he had a piano player and business
was falling off. So, why not give him a try?
The seedy Lt Col staggered his way over to the piano while
several patrons snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of
music, every voice was silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of
soaring music, unlike anything heard in the bar before. When he
finished there wasn't a dry eye in the place.
The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the
name of the song he had just played.
It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall
For You!" said the Commander. After a long pull from the beer, leaving
it empty, "I wrote it myself."
The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano
player just went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime
that had the place jumping. After he finished, the fighter
pilot acknowledged the applause, downed a second proffered mug, and
told the crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light."
He then excused himself and lurched to the john.
When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Look fly
boy, the job is yours, but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is
hanging out?"
"Know it?" the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell, I wrote it!".
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