The Pianist

A man who owns a bar is really struggling. Clientele is at an all-time low, so he looks to spruce it up. Soon, He holds auditions for various talent; comedians, magicians, poets and musicians. But they all suck, and in a big way. That is until a pianist comes in. He plays a song of such haunting beauty that the bar owner breaks down, reflecting on his mother’s losing battle with cancer.

Bar Owner: That is…beautiful. What’s it called?
Pianist: Slimy Green Vaginal Discharge
Bar Owner: Um…okay. Play me another one, then.

The pianist breaks into an even more haunting song. It’s as if he creates a world of such melancholy beauty and sweetness that it paralyzes all its inhabitants. The bar owner sees his old dog decline into oblivion in front of his very eyes.

Bar Owner: My…my god. That is absolutely incredible. What’s that one called?
Pianist: Festering Genital Sores and a Bad Case of Penile Drip in D Minor.
Bar Owner (shakes out of his trance): Oooookay. All right. Here’s the deal. You can play a trial set here one one condition. DON’T mention the names of your songs.
Pianist: Fair enough. I’m just happy to play.

Later that day, the pianist plays his first set. The few inhabitants soon spread the word, and within 45 minutes, the bar is PACKED. People are absolutely entranced by his music. He finishes the first set, and gets up for a bathroom break. Upon his return, an audience member flags him down.

Audience Member: You know your fly’s open and your dick’s hanging out.



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