Ninety-five Jokes

An extremely red-faced man stormed into the tiny shop on the corner of Lingot and Main. Pushing his way past the assorted browsers, he bore down on the sales counter like a Scud missile. The lone clerk regarded him with some trepidation.

"I want to speak to the manager," he demanded.

"I'm sorry Sir, Mr. Mowbray isn't in today. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"You're damn right there is," he sputtered, his anger gushing out like urine in a pub. He reached into his pants pocket, extracted a tattered wallet and slammed it down on the counter. "I bought this piece of shit here only two months ago and now look at it. It's falling apart. Forty-nine ninety-five it cost me! Forty-nine ninety-five," he added for more emphasis. "Can you believe that?" His face was getting redder.

The clerk wasn't sure what to say to him. She only hoped the top of his head stayed put. She picked up the wallet more...