Mr Shapiro, sixty-five and a widower, was having a lonely time in Miami Beach. He observed a man of his own age who was never without female companionship, forever surrounding him, extending invitations and regaling him with amorous advances.
One day he worked up the courage to ask this paragon: "Mister, excuse me, what should I do to make friends like yours?". The man sneered and said: "Get a camel. Then ride up an down Collins Avenue every day. Before you know it, everyone in Miami will be asking who that man is, and you will have to hire a social secretary to handle all of the invitations.
So Mr Shapiro purchased a newspaper and looked through the ads. By good fortune he read of a circus, stranded in Miami, in need of capital. Mr S. phoned the circus owner and within the hour he had rented a camel.
The next morning, Mr S. wearing khaki shorts and a pith helmet, set forth on his camel and on to Collins Avenue. Everywhere people stopped, buzzed, gawked and pointed. Every day for a week he rode his trusty steed.
One morning, as he was about to get dressed, the telephone rang. It was the parking lot attendant to tell him that his camel had been stolen. Mr S. called the police. Sergeant O'Riley answered.
"What...you say someone stole your camel?"
"That's right", said Mr S.
"I have to fill out a form", said the sergeant, "How tall is the animal?"
"From the sidewalk to his back, where I sit, a good six feet."
"What color is it?"
"Camel color, a regular camel-colored camel."
"Was it male or female?"
"What?"
"Was the animal male or female?"
"How am I supposed to know that?
Wait a minute. Yes, it was a male."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"But a minute ago you said you weren't sure."
"I'm positive, officer, because I just remembered...
Every time and every place I was riding on that camel, I heard people yelling:
"Hey, look at the shmuck on that camel!!"
