A man walks into a bar with a newt on his shoulder.
“What an interesting pet,” the bartender says. “What’s his name?”
“Tiny,” the man replies.
“What an odd name, why do you call him Tiny?”
“Because… He’s my newt.”
Musings from Singapore
A man walks into a bar with a newt on his shoulder.
“What an interesting pet,” the bartender says. “What’s his name?”
“Tiny,” the man replies.
“What an odd name, why do you call him Tiny?”
“Because… He’s my newt.”
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