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This short story below is totally, utterly fake.

So – two sullen looking guys walked into a bar, sat next to each other in front of the bar stand and barked orders at the bartender – who was busy flirting with an attractive white collar girl, presumably one of his colleagues – to bring them the single best house wine there was. The bartender offered them several options that were listed on the big, grand and fancily designed menu above on the granite wall, pointing out which specialties each one had and what their origins were. You know, generic bartending stuff. They looked up and – after a while of finger pointing – their faces slowly turning red and frowning, eyes squinting, bodies shaking, until one of them uttered:

“You’re literally a pain in the neck, young’un. Save my neck, zip it and get the best one”, as he wiped his nose and brushed the side ends of his hairline over the rims of the old man glasses.

The other guy nodded slightly – but not to him (or anyone for that matter) – gave the bar a panoramic look, patted his pal on the back, and said “take it easy”, then left immediately with a long sigh. After a few hours wandering about, he called his wife:

“Honey, I think we gotta get a good chair. My neck is killing me and I can’t bear being the town’s grimacer.”

“Don’t we already have lots of them?”, the wife questioned over the phone.

“Get me better ones then”, he answered.

“Better ones? Such as?”

“A chair that inspires me to sit with good posture.”

“Why all of a sudden?”

“I like wine, not whining. You should see the other guy, he can’t even choose wine for himself!”

Terrible punchline, over all unfunny and forced – but so is neck pain.

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