The old mailman is making his last rounds; he retires at the end of
the week. As he approaches the Jones' house, Mrs. Jones greets him warmly at
the door. "Please come in! We're very grateful for your years of service to
us and our neighborhood. I've prepared something special for you."
In walks the mailman, to a graciously appointed dining room, where
Mrs. Jones has prepared a sumptuous lunch. After dumping his letter satchel
on the couch, he and Mrs. Jones have a charming meal. As the mailman finished
his last glass of wine, thanking his hostess profusely, she stops him from
leaving and disappears upstairs. She returns in a moment, in a daring
negligee, and takes the astonished postman to the bedroom, where the elaborate
farewell is consummated between the sheets.
As he's putting his pants on, Mrs. Jones reaches into her nightstand,
pulls out a dollar bill, and hands it to him. Reacting to his astonished
look, she says, "Well, I told my husband that you were retiring and that
we should do something for you. He said 'Fuck him. Give him a dollar!'"
She pauses and smiles proudly. "The lunch was MY idea."