A ragged, old,    derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar; stinking of whiskey, cigarettes    and stale beer His hands shook as he took the "Piano Player Wanted" sign from    the window and handed it to the bartender.
"I'd like to apply for the    job," he said. "I was an F-4 driver, flying off the Attack Carrier Oriskany    back in 'Nam, but when they retired the Phantom all the thrill was gone, and    soon they cashed me in as well. I learned to play the piano at Officer's Club    happy hours, so here I am."
The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful    looking old guy, but it had been quite a while since he had a piano player and    business was falling off. So, why not give him a try.
The seedy pilot    staggered his way over to the piano while several patrons snickered at the old    man. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was    silenced.What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music unlike anything heard    in the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the    place.
The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked    him the name of the song he had just played.
It's called "Drop your    Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall For You" he said. After a long    pull from the beer, leaving it empty, he said, "I wrote it myself."
The    bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player just went on    into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the place jumping.    After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the applause, downed a    second proffered mug, and told the crowd the song was called, "Big Boobs Make    My Afterburner Light."
He then launched into another mesmerizing    song and everyone in the room was enthralled. He announced that it was the    latest rendition of his song, "Spread 'em Baby, It's Foggy Out Tonight and I    Need To See The Centerline," excused himself and headed for the    john.
When he came out the bartender went over to him and said,    "Hey, fly boy, the job is yours; but, do you know your fly is open and your    pecker is hanging out?"
"Know it?," the old fighter pilot replied, "Hell    yeah, I wrote it!"
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