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Jokes about Cheap

After being away on business, Tim thought it would be nice to bring his wife a little gift. "How about some perfume?" he asked the cosmetics clerk. She showed him a bottle costing $50.00. "That's a bit much," said Tim, so she returned with a smaller bottle for $30.00. "That's still quite a bit," Tim complained. Growing annoyed, the clerk brought out a tiny $15.00 bottle. "What I mean," said Tim, "is I'd like to see something really cheap." The clerk handed him a mirror.

It was a few days before Christmas. The trip went reasonably well, and he was ready to go back home. The airport on the other end had turned a tacky red and green, and loudspeakers blared annoying elevator renditions of cherished Christmas carols. Being someone who took Christmas very seriously, and being slightly tired, he was not in a particularly good mood. (Almost a scrooge) Going to check in his luggage (which, for some reason, had become one suitcase with entirely new clothes), he saw hanging mistletoe. Not real mistletoe, but very cheap plastic with red paint on some of the rounder parts and green paint on some of the flatter and pointer parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only in a very Picasso sort of way. With a considerable degree of irritation and nowhere else to vent it, he said to the attendant, "Even if we were married, I would not want to kiss you under such a ghastly mo ckery of mistletoe." "Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is." "Ok, I see that it's above the luggage scale which is the place you'd have to step forward for a kiss." "That's not why it's there." "Ok, I give up. Why is it there?" "It's there so you can kiss your luggage good-bye."

A man who smelled like a distillery flopped on a subway seat next to a priest. The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket. He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes, the disheveled guy turned to the priest and asked, "Say, father, what causes arthritis?" "Mister, it's caused by loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol and a contempt for your fellow man." "Well I'll be." the drunk muttered, returning to his paper. The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and apologized. "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long did you have arthritis?" "I don't have it father. I was just reading here that the Pope does."