A
guy walks into a bar and sits down. After a few minutes,
he starts dialing on the back of his hand as if it's a telephone.
He then flips his hand over and starts talking into his
palm. The bartender walks over and tells the guy it's a
tough neighborhood and he doesn't need any trouble from
weirdos.
"You don't understand," the man says. "I'm
very high tech. I've had a phone installed in my hand because
I was tired of carrying a cell."
"Prove it!"
So the guy dials up a number and presents his hand to the
bartender. The bartender talks into the hand and carries
on a brief conversation.
"That's incredible," says the bartender. "I
would never have believed it!"
"Yeah," says the guy. "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. The guy goes
in and five, ten, twenty minutes go by. Fearing the worst
given the violence in the neighborhood, the bartender goes
into the men's room. The guy is spread-eagled against the
wall. His pants are pulled down and he has a roll of toilet
paper shoved up his butt.
"Oh my god!" says the bartender. "Did the
locals rob you? Are you hurt?"
The guy casually turns around and says, "No, I'm OK.
I'm just waiting for a fax."
