A guy rushes into a bar, orders four expensive thirty-year-old
single malts and has the bartender line them up in front of him.
Then, without pausing, he downs each one.
“Whew,” the bartender remarks, “you seem to be in a hurry.”
“You would be, too, if you had what I have.”
“What do you have?” the bartender sympathetically asks.
“Fifty cents.”
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