So two vertically-challenged gentlemen saunter into a bar and catch the attention of two, let’s say, “professionally romantic” ladies.

Each couple then heads off to their own respective boudoirs.

However, in a cruel twist of fate, the first dwarf finds his “love truncheon” refusing to stand to attention.

Adding a dollop of insult to this embarrassing injury, from the room next door, he hears his little buddy relentlessly pounding out yells of “Brace yourself! Here comes the dwarf express! One, Two, Three… Ugh!”

This “song of his people” continues unabated and echoes through the still night… Over, and over, and over again.

As daylight stages its usual hostile takeover of the night, dwarf number two turns to the first and says, “So buddy, how was your night’s journey through the valley of love?”

The first dwarf grumbles, “Oh man! You have no idea. Couldn’t flag my mast, not even a twitch. It was mortifying!”

Upon hearing this, dwarf two grunts and shakes his head.

“You think that’s embarrassing? I couldn’t even get on the bed!”
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