This is the first.
Tom had to go to the pharmacy today. We are fortunate in that he can get medical transport to take him for this errand as the pharmacy is quite a distance from where we live. When he got home, he relayed this story that the cab driver told him:
The driver (let’s call him Bob. Bob is so much friendlier than “the driver”) Bob got called to a large upscale home in Scottsdale for a fare into Phoenix. A good fare, worth the drive. He pulls up, and there are beautiful luxury cars in the drive. A man comes out leading a second, older man who is obviously the worse for drink. The younger man says, “This is my father. He need to go home. Don’t worry. He have plenty of money in briefcase. Please, you will take him home.”
So the old man gets in the cab, and off they go. About halfway there our man Bob hears the sound of retching in the back seat and the unmistakable scent of vomit wafts to the front of the cab. Bob says, “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” To which the old man responds, “Don’t worry. I throw up in briefcase.”
They arrive at the destination, and the man hands him a clean $100 bill.
“And damn if he didn’t get every drop in the briefcase!”