A guy walks into a bar, clearly frazzled, and orders 12 shots of bourbon. The bartender lines them up, and the guy takes them down, hand over hand. He gets through about seven before taking a pause.
“You okay,” asks the bartender. “You seem like you’re in a hurry.”
“You’d be in a hurry, too, if you had what I had.”
“What do you have?” questions the bartender.
“Seventy-five cents.”
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