We *deserved* a beer

(Rhymes with Publin Dub) used to be our favorite bar.

See, we were parched last night. Parched, we say. Playing softball during the hottest heat wave ever (seriously, last night was the highest low on record in these here parts) and then commuting home will do that to a fella.

So we went to bar one, which is not our favorite bar but has nice suburban scenery. Too crowded with too many young folks squealing over Fall Out Boy jukebox songs. So on to bar two – the joint that used to be our favorite bar.

"Can (we) get a half-and-half and the Dublin Chicken?" we asked, parched, like we said.

"Um. Do you have another shirt?" the bartender said.

"Huh?"

"Sorry. We have a dress code."

So on the hottest day ever, in the middle of a heat wave, our former favorite bar turned us away because we brought our tickets to the gun show in a sleeveless shirt that we never changed out of, post-game.

We took our money and good looks elsewhere, thank you very much. And we’ve banned our former favorite bar for at least a week.

Bastards.