The Supermarket Heist
A brunette, a redhead, and a blonde decided to rob a local supermarket one busy afternoon. The store was buzzing with customers, shopping carts clattering, and cash registers chiming. Just as they were about to make their move, a police officer walked into the store. Panic surged through them.
Thinking quickly, the three women grabbed three large potato sacks nearby and jumped inside, hoping to hide.
The officer, suspicious, approached the first sack and gave it a firm kick.
“Meow,” said the brunette from inside.
The cop, slightly puzzled but relieved, muttered, “Oh, it’s only a cat,” and moved on.
Next, he kicked the second sack, where the redhead was hiding.
“Woof, woof!” she barked loudly.
The officer scratched his head. “Hmm… just a dog,” he said, shaking his head and continuing his inspection.
Finally, the officer turned to the third sack and kicked it.
“Potato!” shouted the blonde from inside, her voice loud and enthusiastic.
The officer paused, confused. “Wait… what?”
The blonde’s clever (or clueless) response left the officer speechless as she continued, “Potato! I’m… a potato!” The customers nearby snickered, unsure whether to intervene or call for help.
A Blonde in an Appliance Store
A blonde walked into a bustling appliance store one morning, eager to buy a new television. She approached the man behind the counter and said politely, “I’d like that TV, please.”
The cashier, looking her over carefully, frowned. “Sorry, ma’am. We don’t serve blondes.”
The blonde left, frustrated but determined. The next day, she returned, having filled her hair with charcoal to look darker. She walked up to the same cashier and repeated, “I’d like that TV, please.”
The cashier squinted at her and said firmly, “Sorry, we don’t serve blondes here.”
Determined, the blonde went to a professional hair salon the following day. She had her hair dyed a vibrant red and returned to the store, approaching the same counter again.
“Excuse me, I’d like that TV, please,” she said with renewed confidence.
The cashier, now clearly exasperated, asked, “Why do you keep coming back if you know we don’t serve blondes?”
At this point, the blonde’s patience snapped. “How in the world do you know I’m blonde?” she demanded, glaring at him.
The cashier leaned in, looked her straight in the eye, and said calmly, “Ma’am… that’s not a TV. That’s a microwave oven.”
The blonde blinked, her jaw dropping, and customers around them burst into laughter. She sheepishly realized that all her efforts had been for nothing—but at least she had entertained half the store in the process.