My friend, a recent widower, thought it might be a good idea to get himself a dog for a bit of companionship.

Checking out the pet ads in the local newspaper he came across one that read: "Purebred Police Dog $25".

Thinking that sounded like a pretty fair bargain, he called and ordered the dog to be delivered and paid up-front by credit card.

The very next day a van pulled up and left on his doorstep, in a cardboard kennel, the mangiest looking mongrel he had ever seen.

In a bit of a rage, he telephoned the man who had placed the ad and shouted over the phone.

"What the hell do you mean by calling that mangy mutt a Purebred Police Dog?"

"Hey calm down," the man responded, "Don't be deceived by his looks, mister, that dog's under cover and in the Secret Service."
Tom, Glenn, and Scott were working on a high rise building project. Glenn fell off and was instantly killed.

As the ambulance took the body away, Scott said, "Someone should go and tell his wife."

Tom says, "OK, I'm pretty good at that sensitive stuff, I'll do it."

Two hours later, Tom came back carrying a 6-pack. Scott asked, "Where did you get that, Tom?"

"Glenn's wife gave it to me."

"That's unbelievable, you told the lady her husband was dead and she gave you the beer?"

Tom said, "Well not exactly. When she answered the door, I said to her, 'You must be Glenn's widow.' She said, 'No, I'm not a widow.'

And I said, "Wanna bet me a six-pack?"
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