Clark is an asshole

After a long day at work, a middle aged man named Fred heads to his favorite bar, located on the 9th floor of a 10 story building. As he takes his seat at the bar and orders a beer, an elderly gentleman takes the seat next to him and orders the same. After a few minutes of silence and contemplation, the elderly man leans over and says 'have you been here before?'

'I have' Fred replied, 'but not in a good while'. They make small talk for moment, and then the elderly gentleman says something quite outlandish. 'The bar recently added this new shot' he told Fred with a hint of a grin. 'I can't explain it, but for a minute or so after drinking, you feel as though you can fly'. Taking the old man for a drunk, but not wishing to be rude, Fred simply smiled and said something about strong drinks and college days.

But the elderly man was adamant. With a sudden exuberance, he called over the barkeep and ordered a double of the drink in question. As Fred looked on, bewildered, the elderly man made his way to the window, shot in hand, and downed it in one fluid, experienced motion.

Fred half leaped, half stumbled from his chair, moving as fast as his tired legs would take him towards the window, and the disillusioned old man who was climbing onto the ledge.

What happened next caused Fred to drop his glass and gape in awe. As he stood, dumbfounded, there was the elderly man, hovering in place as a cool breeze crept into the 9th floor pub. He hovered there, wordless and motionless for what felt like hours, but in reality was only a quarter minute. The elderly man then slowly floated back to the window, caught the ledge with his left foot and stepped back inside as if he had simply been walking down a flight of stairs.

Fred blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he were going to speak before realizing he had no words to offer. The elderly man walked quietly back to the bar and calmly took his seat. 'You just floated in mid air!!' Fred screamed, finally able to form thoughts. The elderly man stared straight ahead into the eyes of his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

'It's a pretty special drink' he said dryly.

Without hesitation, Fred sprinted to the bar, poured himself the shot, downed it, and then sprinted back to the window. Without breaking stride, he leapt out the open window, and for a brief moment felt completely weightless. A few fractions of a second later he was hurtling towards the asphalt, too paralyzed with fear even to scream.

Back in the 9th floor pub, the barkeep walked calmly over to the window, closed and latched it, then looked back over at the bar. The old man was still gazing absently into the mirror, stirring a fresh highball with his straw.

The bar tender sighed and said 'You're an asshole, Mr. Kent.'