Wristwatch or grandfather clock?

A little old man in the city, living in an apartment on the tenth floor of an urban apartment building, had an antique grandfather clock. This particular clock was unusually large, and he had owned it for a long time and was naturally very fond of it. But, the grandfather clock stopped running, and he couldn't get a repairman to come to his apartment to fix it. A clock repairman down the street said he'd fix it, but that he didn't make house calls. And so, the old man made an appointment to have his clock fixed.

He moved the clock from the apartment to the hall, barely getting it through the small door of his apartment. Then he carried it down the hall, stopping every ten feet to rest, until he reached the elevator. This was the easy part, but when he got to the lobby, he encountered the revolving front doors. After struggling with the clock for half an hour, he finally got it to the street. Then he struggled down the street with it, again stopping every ten feet or so to rest.

As luck would have it, there was a bar between his apartment building and the clock repair shop. He tried to time his rest stops to where he didn't block the entrance to any shop, but it was his bad fortune to be lugging the heavy clock past the bar when the bartender threw a drunk through the door and right into him. The old man was knocked to the ground, as was his clock, and ended up in a pile with the drunk who'd just been tossed from the bar . . . and the pieces of his clock. In his dispair, the old man took off a shoe and started beating the drunk in the head with it, saying over and over, "You damed old drunk, look what you've done. You're ruined my priceless clock."

The drunk, trying to fend off the old man's shoe attack, finally mumbled the words, "Well, shit! Why don't you wear a wristwatch like everybody else?"