Nasrudin Meets The Bikers
- Nasrudin, ventured into a biker bar in
the Bronx and clearing his throat asked,
"Um, err, which of you gentlemen
owns the Doberman tied outside
to the parking meter?"
A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers,
his body hair growing out through
the seams, turned slowly on his stool,
looked down at the quivering
Nasrudin and said,
"It's my dog. Why?"
"Well," squeaked Nasrudin, obviously very nervous,
"I believe my dog just killed it, sir."
"What?" roared the big man in disbelief.
"What kind of dog do you have?"
"Sir," answered Nasrudin,
"It's a four week old puppy."
"Nonsense!" roared the biker, "How could
your puppy kill my Doberman?"
"Well sir, it appears that he choked on it."