Milk, it’s pasteurized before you know it
A warlock walks into a bar and sits down. He orders a glass of beer and starts relaxing, when all of a sudden, a DK walks in and sits next to him. He turns to look at the warlock and says: ‘Hey buddy, conjure me up something to drink,’
The warlock raises an eyebrow and looks to the DK, clearly confused. He set his bottle down and spoke, slowly, and clearly, so as not to confuse the DK.
'You want me to summon water? Buddy, you've got the wrong person…'
With that said, he returned to his drink. However, the DK spoke up once again.
'Well if you can't conjure me up something to drink, can you at least conjure me up something to eat?'
The warlock sighed heavily and set his drink down, turning once again to face the DK.
'If I can't conjure you something to drink, what makes you think I could conjure you something to eat? You clearly need a mage, now stop bothering me.'
The warlock returned to his drink, only to find the DK nudging his shoulder.
'Oh I'm sorry,' the DK said mockingly. 'I thought you had something to offer to someone other than yourself.'
The warlock smoothly rose from his seat, grabbed his bottle of beer, and swung it hard, smashing the DK full in the face. The DK collapsed on the floor amidst a shower of beer, blood, shards of glass, and shattered pride, groaning in pain. The warlock tossed the broken neck of the bottle on the floor, and smoothed his robes.
'Oh I'm sorry,' he said with a smile. 'I thought you could tank.'