[Usual rules apply - each person writes a sentence. All the participants had the ability to read the previous sentences, though I'm not sure everyone actually did.]
"Gimme a citywide," the hot dog head man said. "I've had a hell of a day. You'll relish the tale."
"Best I can do is one of these paper cones they inexplicably use for hydration purposes even though they are embarrassingly small," the bartender replied and handed HDHM the libation. The condensation made it slippery.
As the man stared into the cup, he began to reflect on the horrific day he had experienced. Never in his life had he experienced anything like it.
You ever hear of elevator accidents? That's how the real Avril Lavigne died.
"What's your stance on Israel & Palestine?" I asked the bartender, ready to make my horrific day worse."
Just as the bartender was about to speak, a cat jumped on the bar and dashed across, knocking over the tiny paper cone and spilling well whiskey on the man with the hot dog head.
(If you're having trouble following this story - ketchup!)
"You're still going to have to pay for that," the bartender said.
And that was it, the man had had it.
I paid then the bouncer asked me to leave.
The whiskey suddenly combusted, ripping right to my rippling testicles nestled in my scrotum; tumbling in horrific fiery pain like a 9/11 ferris wheel.
I vomited on my own shoes.