The old man saved for years and years for his dream vacation - a weekend in Nevada, where prostitution was legal. However, since he worked for barely minimum wage, the years stretched into decades and he was ninety-one when he got off the bus in Reno in front of a glitzy bordello. The old man tottered up to the front desk.
"Isn't this Reno's famous Pleasure Palace?" he asked.
"Why, yes," replied the incredulous receptionist. "How may I help you?"
"Don't you have the most beautiful girls in town lined up and waiting?" The old man quavered.
The receptionist nodded.
"Well, I'm here to get some."
"How old are you, Pops?" she asked bluntly.
"I'm ninety-one."
"Ninety-one! Pops, you've had it."
"Oh, really?" A disconcerted look passed over the old man's face as his trembling fingers reached for his wallet.
"What do I owe you?"
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