So a guy walks into a bar one day and he canít believe his eyes. There, in the corner, thereís this one-foot-tall man, in a little tuxedo, playing a tiny grand piano.
So the guy asks the bartender, Whereíd he come from?
And the bartenderís, like, Thereís a genie in the menís room who grants wishes.
So the guy runs into the menís room and, sure enough, thereís this genie. And the genieís, like, Your wish is my command. So the guyís, like, O.K., I wish for world peace. And thereís this big cloud of smokeóand then the room fills up with geese.
So the guy walks out of the menís room and heís, like, Hey, bartender, I think your genie might be hard of hearing.
And the bartenderís, like, No kidding. You think I wished for a twelve-inch pianist?
So the guy processes this. And heís, like, Does that mean you wished for a twelve-inch penis?
And the bartenderís, like, Yeah. Why, what did you wish for?
And the guyís, like, World peace.
So the bartender is understandably ashamed.
And the guy orders a beer, like everything is normal, but itís obvious that something has changed between him and the bartender.
And the bartenderís, like, I feel like I should explain myself further.
And the guyís, like, You donít have to.
But the bartender continues, in a hushed tone. And heís, like, I have whatís known as penile dysmorphic disorder. Basically, what that means is I fixate on my size. Itís not that Iím small down there. Iím actually within the normal range. Whenever I see it, though, I feel inadequate.
And the guy feels sorry for him. So heís, like, Where do you think that comes from?
And the bartenderís, like, I donít know. My dad and I had a tense relationship. He used to cheat on my mom, and I knew it was going on, but I didnít tell her. I think itís wrapped up in that somehow.
And the guyís, like, Have you ever seen anyone about this?
And the bartenderís, like, Oh, yeah, I started seeing a therapist four years ago. But she says weíve barely scratched the surface.
So, at around this point, the twelve-inch pianist finishes up his sonata. And he walks over to the bar and climbs onto one of the stools. And heís, like, Listen, I couldnít help but overhear the end of your conversation. I never told anyone this before, but my dad and I didnít speak the last ten years of his life.
And the bartenderís, like, Tell me more about that. And he pours the pianist a tiny glass of whiskey.
And the twelve-inch pianist is, like, He was a total monster. Beat us all. Told me once I was an accident.
And the bartenderís, like, Thatís horrible.
And the twelve-inch pianist shrugs. And heís, like, You know what? Iím over it. He always said I wouldnít amount to anything, because of my height? Well, now look at me. Iím a professional musician!
And the pianist starts to laugh, but itís a forced kind of laughter, and you can see the pain behind it. And then heís, like, When he was in the hospital, he had one of the nurses call me. I was going to go see him. Bought a plane ticket and everything. But before I could make it back to Tampa . . .
And then he starts to cry. And heís, like, I just wish Iíd had a chance to say goodbye to my old man.
And all of a sudden thereís this big cloud of smokeóand a beat-up Plymouth Voyager appears!
And the pianist is, like, I said Ďold man,í not Ďold vaní!
And everybody laughs. And the pianist is, like, Your genieís hard of hearing.
And the bartender says, No kidding. You think I wished for a twelve-inch pianist?
And as soon as the words leave his lips he regrets them. Because the pianist is, like, Oh, my God. You didnít really want me.
And the bartenderís, like, No, itís not like that. You know, trying to backpedal.
And the pianist smiles ruefully and says, Once an accident, always an accident. And he drinks all of his whiskey.
And the bartenderís, like, Brian, Iím sorry. I didnít mean that.
And the pianist smashes his whiskey glass against the wall and says, Well, I didnít mean that.
And the bartenderís, like, Whoa, calm down.
And the pianist is, like, Fuck you! And heís really drunk, because heís only one foot tall and so his tolerance for alcohol is extremely low. And heís, like, Fuck you, asshole! Fuck you!
And he starts throwing punches, but heís too small to do any real damage, and eventually he just collapses in the bartenderís arms.
And suddenly he has this revelation. And heís, like, My God, Iím just like him. Iím just like him. And he starts weeping.
And the bartenderís, like, No, youíre not. Youíre better than he was.
And the pianist is, like, Thatís not true. Iím worthless!
And the bartender grabs the pianist by the shoulders and says, Damn it, Brian, listen to me! My life was hell before you entered it. Now I look forward to every day. Youíre so talented and kind and you light up this whole bar. Hell, you light up my whole life. If I had a second wish, you know what it would be? It would be for you to realize how beautiful you are.
And the bartender kisses the pianist on the lips.
So the guy, whoís been watching all this, is surprised, because he didnít know the bartender was gay. It doesnít bother him; it just catches him off guard, you know? So he goes to the bathroom, to give them a little privacy. And thereís the genie.
So the guyís, like, Hey, genie, you need to get your ears fixed.
And the genieís, like, Who says theyíre broken? And he opens the door, revealing the happy couple, who are kissing and gaining strength from each other.
And the guyís, like, Well done.
And then the genie says, That bartenderís tiny penis is going to seem huge from the perspective of his one-foot-tall boyfriend.
And the graphic nature of the comment kind of kills the moment.
And the genieís, like, Iím sorry. I shouldíve left that part unsaid. I always do that. I take things too far.
And the guyís, like, Donít worry about it. Letís just grab a beer. Itís on me.