"I'll have a whiskey," he says.
The bartender eyes him, then gruffly replies, "We don't serve your kind here."
The rope leaves, dejected. He turns the corner and gets an idea. He ties himself into a knot and tussles his hair, then goes back into the bar.
"I'll take a whiskey," he tells the bartender.
Again, the bartender looks him up and down, narrows his eyes and asks, "Say, ain't you that rope that was in here a few minutes ago?"
The rope replies, "No sir, I'm a frayed knot."
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