Dr. LaBeaver walks into the Dumbtown
Inn sits down. He starts dialing numbers... like
a telephone... on his hand and talking
into his hand. The bartender
walks over and tells him this is a
very tough neighborhood and he
doesn't need any trouble here.
Dr. LaBeaver says, "You don't
understand. I'm very hi-tech. I had a phone
installed in my hand because I was
tired of carrying the cellular."
The bartender says "Prove it."
Dr. LaBeaver dials up a number and
hands his hand to the bartender. The
bartender talks into the hand and
carries on a conversation. "That's
incredible", says the bartender... "I
would never have believed it!"
"Yeah", said Dr. LaBeaver, "I can keep
in touch with my broker, my wife, you
name it. By the way, where is
the men's room?" The bartender directs him to
the men's room. LaBeaver goes in
and 5, 10, 20 minutes go by and he doesn't return.
Fearing the worst given the
neighborhood, the bartender goes into the
men's room. There is LaBeaver
spread-eagle on the wall. His pants are
pulled down and he has a roll of
toilet paper up his butt.
"Oh my god!" said the bartender.
"Did they rob you? Are you hurt?"
LaBeaver turns and says: "No, I'm
ok. I'm just waiting for a fax."