The D.M.V.




After spending 3-1/2 hours enduring the long lines , surly clerks
and insane regulations at the department of motor vehicles, I
stopped at a toy store to pick up a gift for my son.
              
I brought my selection  -  a baseball bat - to  the cash register. 

"Cash or charge?" the clerk asked.
              
"Cash,"  I snapped.  Then apologizing for my rudeness, I explained,
"I've spent the afternoon at the D.M.V."
              
"Shall I gift wrap the bat?" the clerk asked sweetly.  "Or are you
going back there?"