An economist was driving through the rural south. After deciding to stop for the night in a small town, he headed over to the local bar for a couple of beers, and, while quenching his thirst, he noticed a jar behind the bar stuffed with fifty-dollar bills.

"What's that?", he asked the bartender.

"Well", replied the bartender,"we have sort of a contest going on. Everyone who enters puts in a fifty, and if he does three things the money's all his."

"What three things?"

"First off, you have to fight Crazy Bubba, down there at the end of the bar. Bubba's 320 pounds of solid muscle, and he ain't never been beat. But if you do manage to whip him, then you go next door. There's a Rotweiller over there with an abscessed tooth, and the vet had to have forty-six stitches after he tried to pull it. So you have to pull the tooth. And if you manage to do that, there's a 21-year old perverted nymphomaniac upstairs, and you have to completely -- and I mean completely -- satisfy her."

"No way, pal!", said the economist, and he resumed drinking his beer.

But it was a hot night, and the economist downed quite a few beers. Thus fortified, he pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, handed it to the bartender, and said: "I'll take a shot."

"OK", said the bartender, and yelled down the bar; "Hey, Bubba -- here comes another one!"

The two men withdrew to the back room, and the patrons who couldn't jam in to watch the battle had their ears assaulted by the most fearful grunts, groans, and crashing sounds imaginable. But -- amazingly -- it was the economist who staggered, bloody but victorious, through the door.

"OK, buddy", said the bartender,"now go next door and tend to the Rotweiller."

The economist left the bar, and, shortly afterwards, even more violent grunting, groaning and crashing sounds were heard. The bar patrons turned pale, but after what seemed an eternity, the economist wobbled back into the bar and asked "Now -- where's that girl with the abcessed tooth?"

-- Walter Deemer

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