A hipster named Androcles once escaped from his parents’ basement in New Jersey and fled to Brooklyn. As he wandered the streets he came upon a big, burly, older man sitting on the front stoop of a brownstone. The man was moaning in pain and holding his right leg. Androcles was afraid to approach the man because the man was not a hipster. He looked more like a Teamster.
Nonetheless he mustered his courage and walked up to the man. As he came near, the man lifted up his leg and Androcles could see that he had stepped on a large piece of broken glass which had penetrated through the sole of his shoe. Androcles reached out and removed it carefully. The glass was brown and had part of a Pabst Blue Ribbon label on it, and he threw it into the sewer. The man thanked him and said his name was Steve. Androcles introduced himself and continued on his way.
Soon Androcles found himself sharing a house with five other hipsters and playing bass in a band. One night after a gig in an unfamiliar neighborhood he went into an after-hours VFW Post to buy a pack of cigarettes. Quickly he was surrounded by a dozen Veterans of Foreign Wars who told him to go back to Williamsburg or suffer physical violence.
Just then the bartender leaped over the bar and said to the men, “Do not harm this hipster, for he is my friend!”
It was Steve.
Androcles and the men sat at the bar and bonded over shots of Seagram’s 7 until dawn, and Steve told him him to come back any time for drinks on the house.
Androcles didn’t remember making any stops on his drunken walk home, so he was surprised a week later when his girlfriend told him that a tattoo on his back read, “Gratitude is the sign of a noble soul.”
Unfortunately, Androcles was later captured by his parents and taken back to New Jersey and Steve was fired for serving alcohol to minors, so they never saw each other again.
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