Did You Hear the One About...

So, I was sitting in this bar, you see, minding my own business, enjoying my favorite adult beverage. Actually, I was there to do an interview with the owner, but he had to run an errand, so I figure why not stick around. One beer can't hurt, right? Everything was fine. And then this midget walks in. Actually, it was a midget and her boyfriend, who wasn't exactly a midget, or if he was, he was a very tall one. He probably stood about five feet.
The midget comes up to me (about this high) and asks, "Is this stool taken?" She's pointing to the stool next to me. I politely say to her, "No, climb on up."
She orders a drink. I'm not sure what, because I wasn't paying that much attention. I was reading an article I had written in one of our magazines, and, as usual, I got so engrossed in myself, I didn't really care about the outside world.
Anyway, evidently this midget couldn't hold her alcohol so well, because within minutes she becomes rather loud. As I said, I really wasn't paying much attention, but she turns to me and says, "Hey, they're accusing me of being a trouble maker. They better shut their mouth or I'll shut it for 'em."
"Mighty big talk for a little lady," I say. I didn't think much of it. I'd have said that to any woman under the circumstances. But she gives me this look as if to imply that I must be some sort of a bigot. You know, it's the same sort of look Lewis Farrakhan might give you if he thought you had something against guys who wear bowties.
So, I try to cover myself. "I bet you can be quite the little hellion," I tell her. She just glares at me even more. If there's one thing I don't like it's a nasty drunk midget.
It's time to turn on the ol' Steve Cook charm, I'm thinking to myself. Whenever I think to myself, I always stop to wonder if there should be quotation marks around my thoughts. I don't think so. But, anyway, I figure I can turn this whole potentially ugly situation around with my silver-tongued devil personna.
I look down at her with a warm smile, and say, "You know, Snow White has always been my favorite fairy tale." I think my kindness must have thrown her off guard, because she just gets this perplexed look on her face and turns away. I pat myself on the back. Once again, my quick wits saved the day.
A few stools away from me sits a rather attractive blonde woman, probably in her mid-twenties. She's reading a book. I'm reading my magazine, so we don't speak. I just happened to notice her. About the time my little friend turns away, I notice a young teenager walk into the bar. That's strange, I think. What's he doing in a bar? The kid looks like he's probably in the eighth grade or so.
Anyway, he walks up to the bar and to the young blonde woman. She smiles at him, gets up and the two leave together. Hmm, I think, I guess she must be a school teacher.
About this time the owner of the bar comes back, and I go do my interview. I'm somewhat disappointed. There I was sitting in the middle of what must have been a great joke, and I never figured out the punchline.