The Eiffel Tower

As Jerry Traxler walked into Cactus Charlie’s, he removed the chewing tobacco from his lower lip and then he took off his cowboy hat. He walked over to his buddies seated at their favorite table. He ordered a can of Stroh’s beer and gulped the whole thing down in a few seconds.

He motioned to the bartender. “Barkeep – keep ‘em comin’,” he said.

“I heard yer gettin’ hitched, Trax! How’d ya meet her?” his good friend Bud said as he put out his Newport in the ashtray.

“Right here at Charlies! She took one look at me in them boots and said I’m going home with him! Dropped her off at 6 and picked her up at 7 in the mornin’,” Trax said to the group of tipsy coworkers with a wide smile.

“So where did ya propose, Trax?” Sheila asked.

“On Top of the Eiffel Tower,” Trax said proudly.

“You mean you flew her to Paris? How romantic!” Sheila said.

“Nope! King’s Island! There’s an Eiffel tower in Paris?” he said. “Just kiddin’ I know they’ve got one there two – those damn frogs. I’ll bet ours is better.”

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