A frog and a scorpion walk into a bar, illuminated by the faint glow of a neon sign flickering through the foggy windows.
The bartender looks at them and says, "What can I get you two?"
The frog says, "I'll water, please."
The scorpion, its tail twitching in anticipation, says, "I'll have a shot of venom. The kind that makes your guts twist and turn."
As they're sipping their drinks, a reflection of the fluorescent lights dancing on the surface, the frog turns to the scorpion and says, "You know, we're not so different, you and I. We're both misunderstood creatures who are often judged by our appearances."
The scorpion nods, its voice a whisper in the hazy air, and replies, "That's true. We both have our own unique ways of defending ourselves and surviving in this world."
The frog smirks and says, "But there's one thing that sets us apart."
"What's that?" asks the scorpion, its curiosity piqued.
The frog replies, "I can make jokes that go hard and leave everyone laughing, while you... well, you just leave them stinging from your humor, as if they've been bitten by the cold hand of a nightmare, their voices echoing like a distant memory."
The scorpion chuckles, a sound that sends shivers down one's spine, and says, "Touche̲̅т̲̅σ̲̅υ̲̅¢̲̅н̲̅ḛ̲̅, frog. Touche."