The Tenderfoot

So this tenderfoot (that's a "new guy" to the rest of us) arrives in Alaska to work on the pipeline. It's a tradition there that any tenderfoot has to go through an initiation, and the old hands all take him out to make an occasion of it. They tell him if he's ever going to be considered a man in Alaska, he has to do three things:

1) he has to drink a gallon of Alaskan whiskey;

2) he has to make love to an Esquimo; and

3) he has to kill a polar bear with his bare hands.

Well, being too stupid and inexperienced to know any better, the tenderfoot agrees, so they take him off to a bar and get him hammered. Now, as everyone knows, Alaskan whiskey is like diluted napalm mixed with battery acid, except without the gentle hangover. So by the time he's finished a gallon of the stuff, he can barely stand, and he staggers out into the night and they assume he's going to sleep it off.

You can imagine everyone's surprise when a couple of hours later, the door bangs open. There stands the tenderfoot, wild-eyed and still pissed as a newt, hair pulled out in tufts, covered from head to toe in cuts, scratches and bites, with his clothes torn to shreds. Says he, "OK, I've shorted out the polar bear. Now wheresh thish Eshquimo chick I have to kill?"