hands...

Crusty old biker

A crusty old biker out on a long summer ride in the country pulls up to a tavern in the middle of nowhere parks his bike and walks inside. As he passes through the swinging doors, he sees a sign hanging over the bar:

COLD BEER: $2.00
HAMBURGER: $2.25
CHEESEBURGER: $2.50
CHICKEN SANDWICH: $3.50
HAND JOB: $50.00

Checking his wallet to be sure he has the necessary payment, the old biker walks up to the bar and beckons to the exceptionally attractive female bartender serving drinks to a couple of sun-wrinkled farmers.

She glides down behind the bar to the old biker. “Yes?” she inquires with a wide, knowing smile, “May I help you?”

The old biker leans over the bar, “I was wondering young lady,” he whispers, “Are you the one who gives the hand-jobs?”

She looks into his eyes with that wide smile and purrs “Why yes, yes, I sure am.”

The ole’ biker leans closer and into her left ear whispers softly, “Well, wash your hands real good, cause I want a cheeseburger.”