A little alley street walks into a bar...

He sits down at the only chair and asks the bartender for a drink. "Umm uhhh sir? C-could I please have some.. uhh... water?" The bartender gives him his cup of water and the little alley sips away happily.

Then, your typical 2-way street walks in, sees the little alleyway in the only chair and politely asks him to move. "Mr. alley, you seem to be in my seat, could you please find somewhere else to drink your beverage?" The little alley squeaks, "Oh i'm so sorry Mr. Two-way street, I didn't ummm realize I was in your chair. Here you go." The little alley downs his water and scampers out of the bar. The two-way street orders some Pepsi and sits down to read his morning paper.

Suddenly, a mean old 2-lane highway storms in, and yells "Out of my seat ya weenie." The street replied, "Sir, I'm trying to enjoy my refreshment and read the morni..." WHAM! The highway smacks the street on the head and the street decides he's going to be a pacifist today "I mean of course, it's your seat, my apologies." "Gimme some beer, not that pussy ass girly cola." The bartender pulls out the finest Miller Light he can find and passes it to the highway.

All was peaceful until around 4PM when Interstate 95 runs in during rush hour "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY BITCH I'M IN A HURRY". "FUGGIN MAKE EM YA BASTARD" and the two hammer away at each other. The two go at it for a few minutes, but the highway could not keep up with the fury of hundreds of short-tempered drivers that had just been cut off. The interstate grabs the highway,"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ASS" and tosses him where the 2-way street was nursing his headwound. The interstate claims victory, finishes his beer and says "QUICK BARTENDER, GIMME SOME VODKA" The interstate begins to down vodka by the handle.

Halfway through the 3rd handle of vodka, the Autobahn walks in "Out of my way, you puny little piece of asphalt." The Autobahn grabs his gun and puts 6 rounds into the interstate. He sits down and tells the bartender, "I want the blood of my enemies mixed with your hardest rum on the rocks, shaken, not stirred." The bartender squeezes out some of the interstate's blood from an open gunshot wound and uses the bullets for ice. He mixes it with rum and serves it to the autobahn. But before the autobahn can pick up his drink, a little dirt bike trail walks in. The autobahn says "Ha, I suppose you're gonna make me move out of my chair?" The trail starts screaming and grabs the autobahn by his head and rips him limb from limb. With a guttural cry of victory the little bike trail runs out. At this point, the highway has recovered sufficiently to ask the street, "Gee what's his problem?"

The street replies, "Oh him? He's a cycle path."