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'Ten bucks?!? What's the gimmick?' she inquired.
'No gimmick,' the man answered. 'My wife died, and in her will she asked that the car be sold and that all the money go to the mailman.'
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So the man went to Italy for two years and then came back and asked the monk again what the noise was. The monk said, 'I can't tell you, you're not a high monk. You have to go to Italy for three years.' So the man went, came back and then asked the monk again what the noise was. Again the monk said, 'I can't tell you, you're not a king monk. You have to go to Italy for four years.' So the man went, came back and once more asked the monk.
And the monk said, "The pipes bang sometimes. Aren't I a passive aggressive sadist for not just telling you that in the first place? And aren't you a sorry-assed sucker for jumping through my retarded hoops?"
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"Yes ma'am," said the clerk. "I'm quite certian that could be done. Would you prefer block or script letters?"
"Braille," she replied.
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