“Hey, Jim! Are there any good strip clubs around here?”

The question had come from one of the many gathered at Dan’s house for pre-bar hopping cocktails. Dan and Jim were best friends, sharing, among other things, a bit of an odd sense of humor.

“Okay, why do you assume that is a question I would know the answer to?” Jim replied.

Someone else piped up, “You just seem like the type!” A few laughs came from the room.

Jim smiled.  “Actually, I really don’t like strip clubs much.”

A few more laughs and maybe a “bullshit” or two.

“No, it’s true. Oh yeah, naked women I can’t touch. I have enough frustrations in life, alright?”

“If you pay them enough you can touch,” came the response. More laughter.

“Oh, sure,” Jim began, “but if I touch I want to lick, if I lick I want to bite and if I bite the next thing you know it is three AM and I’m out in the middle of nowhere digging a shallow grave.” He calmly took a sip a beer.

The crowd stared at Jim and was silent. All except for Dan, who was laughing so hard he almost passed out.