Grandpa is a Great Gambler
The IRS calls Grandpa in for an audit. Sure enough, Grandpa shows up with his lawyer.
The agent eyes him and says, “Sir, you live quite well with no steady job, and you keep saying it’s all from gambling. That’s hard to believe.”
Grandpa grins. “I’m a great gambler—and I can prove it. Care to bet?”
The agent shrugs. “Alright, let’s hear it.”
“I’ll bet you a thousand dollars I can bite my own eye,” Grandpa says.
The agent smirks. “Impossible. You’re on.”
Grandpa pops out his glass eye and gives it a chomp. The agent’s jaw hits the floor.
“How about double or nothing?” Grandpa says. “Two thousand I can bite my other eye.”
The agent checks—Grandpa clearly isn’t blind—so he agrees. Grandpa pops out his dentures and bites his good eye.
Now the agent is out three grand and sweating bullets.
Grandpa leans in. “Last bet—six thousand says I can stand on one side of your desk and pee into the trash can on the other side without a single drop in between.”
The agent thinks, No way, and agrees. Grandpa unzips, aims, and… completely misses, splashing the agent’s desk.
The agent jumps up, cheering—finally a win! But Grandpa’s lawyer groans and buries his face in his hands.
“You okay?” the agent asks.
“Not really,” the lawyer sighs. “Before we came in, Grandpa bet me twenty-five grand he could pee all over your desk and you’d be happy about it.”
