One day, a little old lady walked into a sex shop. The

clerk couldn't help

notice her, first, because she reminded him of his dear old

grandmother, and

second because she was twitching violently and trembling, as

if she had some kind of nervous disorder.

"Young m-m-m-man?" she stammered to the clerk, "Do you sell

v-v-v-vibrators here?"

"Yes ma'am, we do," he replied, a little embarrassed.

"B-b-b-big fl-fl-fluorescent oh-oh-orange ones?

"Yes ma'am, we have some like that."

"The t-t-type about s-s-s-sixteen inches l-l-l-l-long?"

 "Yes ma'am.

"We've got just about any size you'd want."

"The k-k-kind that t-t-t-t-takes eight D-D-D Cell

b-b-b-b-batteries?"

 

"Yes ma'am we carry some like that."

"Well, c-could you t-t-t-tell me how the f-f-fuck you turn

it off?"