Once, I met a man in a cave, as you do. We talked for a while. He reminisced about his sister, his friends back home, I laughed and regaled my own tales of my time in the Army. He sat down and produced a large jug from his backpack, took a swig; and offered it to me. "I'm a germophobe," I said smiling.

He slung his backpack in front of him and showed me a sealed pack of plastic shotglasses. "No, no, I shan't, I don't know what's in that concoction anyway."

From the man's backpack, he brought forth various unopened bottles of alcohol. He took the shotglasses from me, opened the container, poured all liquors into a shot.

Now I'm paranoid, see? So I tell him to taste some first. He did and offered it to me. "No, no, I'm a germophobe."

He didn't take this switcheroo well at all, no-siree-bob, he didn't. He didn't realize at first, he drank it down, but then he sat down, putting his head in his hands. I came up to him and shook him. "I'll drink from the cup, fine." I drank from the cup, fine. Now me and the man in the cave are best friends. One day, I beat him at scrabble. All hell broke loose. But now all hell is tightly fixed. All is well in the kingdom.

The author had no idea how to end this lil ditty, so, yeah, the end.