Bill Donaldson had dialed the wrong number.
He was sure of it.
The voice on the other end announced that he had called a butcher shop. “Ed’s Butcher Shop” to be exact. “How may I help you?”
Bill wasn’t sure that the butcher shop could help him out at all. He had meant to call the florist. Or was it the dentist?
Yes, probably the dentist. It had been a couple years since he had been, and he was sure he had a cavity. It seemed unlikely that the butcher could help him out.
“I don’t think you can do anything for me.” Bill said.
“Ok.” Said the butcher.
Bill hung up the phone and dialed the number for the dentist.
There was no answer.
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Of course there was no answer. Bill’s dentist is closed on Monday. Silly Billy.
Think, Bill! Think!
But it wasn’t Monday.
Ah-ha! Bruce, I think the plot thickens.
That’s right, it was Sunday. Another day the dentist was closed.
The real question is why the butcher shop was open on Sunday.
People need meat every day. Butchers are an essential service.
Ah.
I know how to work one of them contraptions in the picture.
That certainly dates you, now doesn’t it?
Well, I used it to get dates.
Maybe he’s HEAD-ing OFF onto a holiday…
Ouch. That could be.
2 for the price of one. Come get your tooth pulled and pick up some bacon for tomorrow’s breakfast.
Chew gently!
Not if you want the business!
Ouch!
The dentist is ALSO the butcher.
A guy has to have a side trade… (uhh) hobby – right?
Some hobby!
Bad dentists are hack jobs?
I’d probably rather go to a bad butcher than a bed dentist.
I always like a nice fillet of cavity!
Tasty!
That’s because the butcher killed the dentist and Bill is next!
The plot thickens!