One day Salvador Dali entered a New York bookstore and asked for a copy of his book, The Secret Life of Salvador Dali. The young clerk, recognizing his distinguished customer, promptly fetched the book and began to wrap it.

"Have you read it?" the artist asked. "No, I'm afraid not," the clerk replied, handing over the package. "Take it," Dali said, passing it back across the counter. "It is my gift to you. Would you like me to autograph it for you?" "Of course," the clerk replied, excitedly tearing open the package and handing Dali a pen...

Only after the artist had left the store did the clerk realize that he had forgotten a minor detail: Dali had neglected to pay for the book!

[Dali was in fact notoriously avaricious. As one critic pointed out, one anagram of his name spells avida dollars!]