I Counted Three

Bill, a dimwitted hick, came to town saddled up on his plowing ox.

He rode right into the bank and up to the teller window proclaiming, “Ah wonna mick uh de-pah-zit!”

The baffled teller responded, “You want what?”

The annoyed rube said it again, even slower. “Ahh – wonna – mick – uh – De-pah-zit!”

Suddenly recognizing the situation, the teller replied, “I’m sorry sir, that’s an awful country diction. You can’t make a deposit with drawl. You must be an oxymoron.”

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