In any case, so I had all of the PCs meeting in a tavern in Laketown for breakfast. (Each of the PCs had established that they knew at least one or two of the other characters, but this was the first time they were *all* meeting one another for the first time.)
So, they're all sitting there in the tavern, eating, and my wife--who is playing the Hobbit (she's playing the character as female, so the name has been changed from Trotter to Nellie)--decides she wants to tell a joke. Below is her transcript of how the conversation went:
Nellie (talking to Bori, initially): Want to hear a great joke? I'm going to tell this to EVERYONE. Okay, so, a dwarf, an orc, and an elf walk into a tavern--
The Bride: Why is the orc still alive?
Bori: Why is the dwarf with an elf?
Nellie: Just-- I don't know, that's just how the joke goes--
Caranthir: Is the elf kicking the orc all over the tavern?
Nellie: No! They--
Caranthir: Why not?
Bori: This joke makes no sense. It's not funny at all.
Nellie: You just have to accept the premise, okay? Stick with me here. So, all three of them order beer--
Beran: How does the orc have coin to buy beer?
The Bride: I still don't understand why no one has killed the orc yet.
Nellie: JUST LISTEN OKAY? So the beer comes and each tankard has a fly in it--
Lifstan (whom the player has decided isn't too bright, due to his 2 Wits): That's terrible. What kind of tavern serves flies in their beer?
Nellie: No, I mean, like, flies LAND in the beer.
Lifstan: That doesn't sound like a very sanitary tavern. It's not this one, is it? My cousin owns this tavern.
Nellie: ANYWAY-- so the elf says to the bartender, "This is unacceptable! I will not drink this filthy brew. Take it away at once!"
Bori: HA HA HA! That's hilarious! It's funny because the elf wasted perfectly good beer!
Nellie: But the joke isn't done yet--
Caranthir: I would never order beer.
Nellie: So the orc simply picks the fly out of his beer and throws it away--
Beran: Is it funny because it's an orc who's being picky about drinking a fly?
Nellie: No! So the dwarf grabs the fly out of his beer, squeezes it over the tankard, and screams, "SPIT IT OUT, YA WEE BASTARD!! SPIT IT OUT!!"
[Everyone but Bori laughs. Bori sits for a long moment in stony silence.]
Bori: Oh, I get it. Sure. Sure. It's soooooo funny that dwarves are so CHEAP that we're going to get SO upset over losing a few drops of beer, IS THAT IT? IS THAT IT?
Nellie: ...
Nellie: ...are you going to eat that sausage?
The postscript to this bit comes not long after, when I have a rather grim and morose Dwalin enter and belly up to the bar. Bori goes up to him and engages him in very manly, very gruff dwarf-like conversation in which feelings are IN NO WAY mentioned, but in which he is trying to suss out what might be wrong with him. Nellie pops up on Dwalin's other side, chomping on a pickle.
Nellie (to Dwalin): Want to hear a joke?
Bori: NO HE DOES NOT.
Honestly, I barely have to come up with adventures for these people. I could just kick back with a bowl of popcorn and enjoy the show.
