The joke itself is:
A kangaroo goes into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender gives the kangaroo his drink, takes the kangaroo's money, and while he's giving the kangaroo back its change, he says, "You know, we don't see too many kangaroos around here." The kangaroo looks at the change and replies, "At these prices, I'm not surprised."
The point of it is obviously not that it's really funny at all, it's that it makes a damned fine theme upon which to write your own variation. It can be in your own style, the style of another author, or something else totally unrelated to writing at all. Just make it funny.
Also, I would be a cad, indeed, if I were to leave you all wondering what my own version of it is. Fear not!
It was a bar. It was a dark bar. A dark bar with people in it, people who wanted to drink, so they were at a bar, and it was a dark bar because they were dark people. Many drank Scotch. Outside, it rained. Behind the bar stood a dark, heavyset bartender making a sullen attempt at cleaning spotted Scotch tumblers with a dirty rag.
Through the door came a marsupial, a kangaroo, bounding heavily, as a kangaroo is a heavy creature that bounds heavily as heavy creatures are wont to do. She had a pouch. It was a big pouch, perhaps big enough to hold a smaller kangaroo, but perhaps not big enough to hold a bigger kangaroo. She had held smaller kangaroos before, and had named them all Joey, since Joey is a common name for heavy-bounding kangaroos. She had no kangaroos in the pouch today, small or otherwise; inside the pouch was a ten dollar bill.
It was an ordinary ten dollar bill, as ordinary as ten dollar bills get. On the front it was largely gray, as gray as the dounpouring clouds outside, as gray as the souls of the dark people in this dark bar. She put the ordinary ten dollar bill on the counter.
"I'd like a vodka martini," she said.
"We all drink Scotch here," replied the dark, heavyset bartender darkly and heavysetly.
"I want a vodka martini."
"You'll drink Scotch."
"No."
"Yes."
"I want a vodka martini."
"Why do you want a vodka martini?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't you know?"
"I don't know, and it makes me sad."
"It makes me sad that you are sad."
"That makes me sad. I'll have a Scotch."
"No."
"Yes."
"No, you'll have a vodka martini, as Scotch makes me sad."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Don't you?"
"No."
"That makes me sad."
"Here is your vodka martini. And your change."
The dark, sad, heavyset bartender reached into his tarnished brass register to bring out two rumpled, filthy one dollar notes. He set them on the bar, then turned from the kangaroo, content to drink to his sadness with the Scotch that makes him sad. Many dark people in the dark bar drank their Scotch darkly. The rain continued.
Presently, the heavyset bartender turned around, dropping his dirty rag to the dirty floor, where it landed on and covered a dirty cucaracha. The dark bartender did not know this, and it made the cucaracha sad to know that it was covered in filth. The dark, heavyset bartender turned an eye to the heavily-bounding marsupial, the kangaroo, with the pouch.
"You know, we don't see many of your kind around here much, and that makes me sad."
"Sad?"
"Yes, sad. I may have to drink a vodka martini instead of Scotch."
"Why are you sad that you don't see many of my kind around here?"
"I don't know."
"No?"
"Yes."
"I see. I tell you, bartender, with your darkness and heavysetness, why you do not see many of my kind around here."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you charge eight dollars for a drink that is not Scotch, and is therefore not sad. A vodka martini is a happy drink, a light drink, a drink that is drunk by people who want to drink and get drunk by drinking. We kangaroos are happy, not sad, but to pay eight dollars for a happy drink is not a happy thing, and it makes me sad that you are bringing sadness into my world of light vodka martinis."
"I'm sorry. I'll buy the next round."
"Very good, bartender. I'll have a Scotch."
THE END
