Time passes. The patrons filter out. Eventually the bartender grows old. His children mourn him at his passing, and meet the grave in their turn. The city crumbles under the intrigues of time and war, and new cities lay their foundations upon the old. These, too, crumble. Humanity itself grows old, and its bones are reclaimed by the earth. The sun expends its vigor until only a pallid red reaches the cracked land, where the last vestiges of life carve out their meager portion.
A time traveler steps out into the barren landscape and says "Shit, I overshot the punchline."
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from Jokes: Get Your Funny On! https://ift.tt/CzETSrQ
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