The Joke’s on You

Stuart Watkins

Okay, you keep the house, and I’ll take the Ford 150. Little did she know, the house was mortgaged up to the hilt.

Only had $50 in my pocket and a Visa credit card, but in Nashville I met an online gal that looked swell.

Had to stop in Bristol, Va., to gas up, but the card was invalid. She must have canceled when I drove away. No matter, $50 got me about 12 gallons, a cup of coffee, and a hotdog to go.

Two hundred ninety miles to Nashville, and at 20 miles per gallon, I couldn’t make it there. So, decided to sell my truck in Bristol. Her name was on the title. Could not sell.

Okay, I decided to get what I could with no title and move on. Vagrant, local, or immigrant gave me five $100 bills in cash. I took them and walked over to the bank to get some $20 bills. Counterfeit!

Manager asked me to have a cup of coffee, and he would see what he could do. Police arrived, and I wound up in jail.

Moral of this tale is that one should never brag: The Joke’s on You.