Old joke...

A "creative" counterfeiter perfects his masterpiece: an $18 bill. Fearing the repercussions should he try to deploy it in an urban area, he heads out into the boondocks.

Driving along, he encounters an old-style general store in a very backwoodsy area, and decides he's found the site for his field test. So he goes into the store and is immediately confronted by a typical "hick" storekeeper, complete with overalls and corncob pipe.

Our protagonist engages the hayseed in a couple of minutes' friendly repartee and then says casually, "Say, I need some change. Could you break an eighteen for me?"

The proprietor smiles widely and replies, "Sure, pal. How do you want it? Two nines, or three sixes?"

Oddly enough, I told exactly that same joke, with minor variations, when I passed on that story to coworkers this afternoon.

(And any notions I might ever have had about mocking rural types disappeared some time during my last trip through Appalachia.)