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Message: <blockquote data-quote="nikonpup" data-source="post: 838716" data-attributes="member: 9922"><p>Graham Martin is in the Hospital Who the hell is Graham Martin? Well, let me tell you. Graham is just your average guy—well, he was until last night. It all started when he stumbled home late, reeking of mischief. The moment he stepped through the door, his wife, Helen, stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, looking like a prosecutor ready to present Exhibit A. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. Graham, in his infinite wisdom (or lack thereof), grinned proudly and announced, “I was getting a tattoo!” Helen’s eyes narrowed. “A tattoo?” she repeated, her voice laced with suspicion. “And what exactly did you get tattooed?” Graham puffed out his chest and, with all the confidence of a man who had no idea what was coming, declared, “I got a hundred-dollar note tattooed on my privates!” Silence. Helen blinked. Then frowned. Then shook her head so hard, she nearly gave herself whiplash. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, somewhere between disbelief and pure fury. “Why would a Chartered Accountant—of all people—get a hundred-dollar bill tattooed on that?” Graham, thinking he had just delivered the best financial strategy of the century, smirked and said: “Well, sweetheart… One—I like to watch my money grow. Two—Every now and then, I enjoy playing with my money. Three—I like how money feels in my hand. And lastly… instead of you going out shopping, you can stay home and blow a hundred dollars anytime you want.” … And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Graham Martin ended up in the Critical Care Unit, Room 233. No visitors allowed until further notice. <img src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tfd/3/16/1f62c.png" alt="😬" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /><img src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/te/3/16/1f602.png" alt="😂" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /></p></blockquote><p></p>

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