I walked up to the bartender and said, "Hey bartender, do you serve clams?"
The bartenders eyes went wide, then he looked nervously to a sealed side door. "No, no. Not at all."
I leaned forward with a smile, "Are you suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure you don't serve clams."
He dropped his plate and threw his hands in the air, "Yes! Yes, okay, we do serve clams. We serve them faithfully, and would gladly lay down our lives for their cause. Our mollusk overlords are plotting to control everything! And we would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn't been for your meddling Teds!"
That was freaky. I'm not sure how he knew my name. I went to a bar elsewhere instead, with my friends (a rabbi, a priest and Henry Kissinger.)
