Black Jack Goes Into A Bar

Black Jack walked into the bar. "I wanna beer!" he cried, "and I want it now!"
"Yes sir, Mr. Black Jack sir! Coming right up Mr. Black Jack," said the bartender, and slid a beer over to where Black Jack was standing.
Black Jack took his beer and made his way over to one of the small wooden tables. He sat down heavily in one of the rickety chairs and heard it creak under his weight. Black Jack tip a large swallow of the cold beer. He looked around to see who else was there. Black Jack didn't see anybody he knew.

Black Jack Meets Poker Face

"Well, if it isn't old Black Jack, the biggest, ugliest, fighter in the west," came a voice from over his shoulder.
Black Jack turned around. He looked up into the face of his old friend, Poker Face. "Hey Poke! said Black Jack. "How's it going?"
"Can't complain, can't complain," said Poker. He set his skinny frame carefully in a chair. "Hey, Wilma, bring me a beer," he yelled to the waitress. "And another one for my friend Black Jack here.
Black Jack and Poker Face spent the next two hours talking over old times. By the time they left, they had each had quite a bit to drink and were feeling fine.
"See ya next week," yelled Poker Face.
"Next week!" answered Black Jack, just before he fell flat on his face.
"Oh, not again," said the bartender.