The bat has just gotten this joke, about a minute after hearing it, and the last of their Irish coffee just spurted out of their not-as-flat-as-a-vampire-bat's nose. That hurt.

Someone asked the barkeep, where did the new glass go?

Nova Scotia, he replied, and ducked.

It was the ducking that made the bat realize they'd missed something, so they ordered an Irish coffee and perched on the bar to indulge in it right-side up.

Once they got their breathing tubes sorted out and the cream out of their nostrils, they ordered another, feeling that the first had not been quite actually drunk.