From the groaners listserv

A man takes his puppy to a bar and is told in no uncertain terms to leave immediately.

“But this isn’t just any dog,” the man says. “This dog can play the piano.”

“Well, if he can play that piano, you both can stay, and I’ll give you a drink on the house.”

The man sits the dog on the piano stool, and the dog starts playing — ragtime, Mozart, Gershwin — and the bartender and patrons love it.

Suddenly a bigger dog runs in, grabs the small dog by the scruff of the neck, and drags him out.

“What the hell was that all about?” the bartender asks.

“Oh, that’s his mother,” the man says. “She wants him to be a doctor.”

“the mouse is a ventriloquist”

howell gwin

Google it. Several similar shaggy tales.

From Bob Levi, a more classical version of the story:

That reminds me of the guy who walks into the talent agency and tells the agent he has an act that is remarkable. The agent, who has seen it all, tells the guy to show him what he has.

So the guy takes a mouse out of one pocket and a miniature grand piano and bench out of the other. The mouse is dressed in a little white tie and tails (that makes three) and sits down at the piano. Of course the mouse starts playing and his repertoire includes classical piano concertos, jazz, ragtime and pops.

The agent is flabbergasted and wants to sign the mouse immediately. The guys tells the agent that the mouse is only half of the act. He then takes a gerbil from another pocket and props her up against the piano. The gerbil is dress in a full-length gown. She then proceeds to sing while the mouse accompanies her. She sings opera arias, lieder, jazz, show tunes and standards from the 1940s and 1950s.

The agent wants to sign them both immediately and produces a contract and pen for the guy’s signature. The guy is hesitant and the agent asks why.

“Well,” says the guy. “I can’t sign in good faith. The acts a fake. The gerbil can’t really sing. The mouse is a ventriloquist!”