Small town hick walks into a sales showroom. “Hello, gentle sir,” says a salesman as he hurries up to him. “What can we sell you today?”
The hick responds: “Well, this feller I know said you all had some fancy new garbage cans.”
“Why, that we do, good sir. Just step right this way,” says the salesman who knows a mark when he sees one.
“All right, here we are, the Stellar Five Thousand. This little beauty takes your trash, it compacts, it powers itself with solar energy. It’s got a foot pedal to open the door if you don’t have the strength to do it and, best of all, it calls to be emptied via blue-tooth so as to let your local garbageman know when it’s full.”
“How much?” asks the hick. “Friend,” replies the salesman, “I like your face, so here’s what I’m going to do. These little beauties usually go for a mere five thousand each but for you, I’ll give, give mind you, six for a mere twenty-nine thousand, ninety-nine, ninety-five.”
“Oh wow,” the hick customer exclaims. “I’ll take them.”
“All right,” says the salesman. “Sign right here on the dotted line and I’ll throw in free deliver for a mere nine, ninety-nine, ninety-five more.”
The salesman watches as the sucker signs his name. “Glad to give you the … I mean, glad to do business with you, ah, Mr. Sandy C. Kouncil. Tell your friends about us and you all come back now, you hear.”