The next day, with his hangover in full swing, there's a loud knock at the door. There on his front porch stands a fully grown giraffe.
"Shit... Well I guess I'm taking this giraffe to the bar."
So he leads the giraffe down to the local dive bar, where the bartender says, "Hey man, you can't bring a giraffe in here!"
"He's fine, he's fine man. He won't cause any trouble."
The bartender reluctantly agrees and the man orders two shots of whiskey. "Hey man, are you sure the giraffe should be drinking?"
"He's fine, he's fine. He'll behave."
"Fine." Says the bartender.
So two hours and many, many shots of whiskey later the giraffe is absolutely hammered and swaying his neck around like a giraffe possessed. Finally, with a loud crash, the giraffe slams down on the floor. Not wanting to bother trying to wake up his new destructive pet, the man gets up and staggers towards the exit.
The bartender, absolutely fucking furious at this point, yells out "HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? YOU CAN'T LEAVE THAT LYING THERE!"
And the man replies in a slur, "It's not a Lion! It's a giraffe!"
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