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10-28-2002, 08:41 PM
NINETY-PROOF MORON
Before the cashier knew what was happening, a man with a shotgun appeared at the counter and demanded all the cash in the register. The cashier quickly filled a paper bag with the register’s contents and handed it over to the shotgun-wielding robber. Before he made his escape, the robber saw a bottle of Scotch on the shelf behind the counter — and it looked pretty good to him. He stuck the barrel of the gun in the clerk’s face and told him to put the Scotch in the bag with the cash. The cashier said he wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t that it was a particularly aged or valuable bottle of Scotch, he told the robber; he simply didn’t think the man was old enough to drink. The robber claimed he was, but the cashier still refused to give him the liquor. To prove he was over twenty-one, the robber produced a valid driver’s license and showed it to the conscientious clerk. The clerk looked it over, realized that the man was over twenty-one, and gave him the bottle of Scotch. The robber then dashed out of the store, ready to celebrate his newly acquired cash with a shot or two of fine single-malt Scotch. The cashier celebrated the man’s stupidity by calling the police and giving them the robber’s name and address, which he had memorized from the driver’s license. The door to the thief’s prison cell closed before he could even open his bottle of Scotch.
Before the cashier knew what was happening, a man with a shotgun appeared at the counter and demanded all the cash in the register. The cashier quickly filled a paper bag with the register’s contents and handed it over to the shotgun-wielding robber. Before he made his escape, the robber saw a bottle of Scotch on the shelf behind the counter — and it looked pretty good to him. He stuck the barrel of the gun in the clerk’s face and told him to put the Scotch in the bag with the cash. The cashier said he wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t that it was a particularly aged or valuable bottle of Scotch, he told the robber; he simply didn’t think the man was old enough to drink. The robber claimed he was, but the cashier still refused to give him the liquor. To prove he was over twenty-one, the robber produced a valid driver’s license and showed it to the conscientious clerk. The clerk looked it over, realized that the man was over twenty-one, and gave him the bottle of Scotch. The robber then dashed out of the store, ready to celebrate his newly acquired cash with a shot or two of fine single-malt Scotch. The cashier celebrated the man’s stupidity by calling the police and giving them the robber’s name and address, which he had memorized from the driver’s license. The door to the thief’s prison cell closed before he could even open his bottle of Scotch.