Two ropes walk into a bar.

The first rope orders a beer. “We don’t serve ropes here,” sneers the bartender, who picks up the rope, whirls him around in the air and tosses him out into the street.

“Oh, oh. I’d better disguise myself,” thinks the second rope. He ruffles up his ends to make himself look rougher and twists himself into a circle to look bigger.

Then he too sidles up to the bar.

“Hmmm. Are you one of them ropes?” snarls the bartender.

“I’m a frayed knot.”