The Return to the Bar

A traveling salesman, out on the road for two months, was beginning to feel lonely and horny.

He stopped in at a bar, ordered a drink and asked the bartender what men did for fun around here.

The bartender told him to go to room at the top of the stairs and wait for Vanessa.

He did. Soon the door opened to reveal the most beautiful black woman he had ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa, and I’m $20,” she said.

Much to his dismay the salesman had only $18, which he promptly offered.

“Vanessa does not lower her standards for anyone,” she said. “I’ll send up Angela.”

A few minutes later a beautiful white woman appeared, took his money and treated him to a wonderful evening of sucking and fucking.

Twenty-five years later, while on vacation, the salesman found himself in the same bar, talking to the same bartender. “Bet you don’t remember me,” he said.

“Sure I do,” replied the bartender. “You’re the guy that knocked up Angela 25 years ago. That’s your son at the end of the bar. He’s been in every night for ten years, hoping to meet his daddy.”

The salesman went over to the boy and said, “Son, I think I may be your daddy.”

The boy said, “Great! What is my last name?”

“Bardowski,” the salesman said.

“Oh, no,” said the boy, “you mean that I waited ten years to find out that I’m Polish?”

“Hey, kid,” the salesman said, “it could’ve been worse. Two dollars more and you’da been black too!”

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