When we agreed to help our sergeant move to a new apartment, we didn’t know the elevator wasn’t working. So after hours of carrying heavy boxes and furniture up 11 floors, we were wiped out. And when the sergeant asked us to search for his favorite pot, no one moved.
“I’ll give a bottle of Scotch to whoever finds it,” he shouted.
Within minutes, a private found the pot.
“Good,” said the sarge. “Now look for the Scotch.”
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