Shaggy Dog Stories
(From
Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaggy_dog_story )
In its
original sense, a shaggy dog story or yarn is an extremely long-winded anecdote
characterized by extensive narration of typically irrelevant incidents and
terminated by an anticlimax or a pointless punchline.
Shaggy dog
stories play upon the audience's preconceptions of joke-telling. The audience
listens to the story with certain expectations, which are either simply not met
or met in some entirely unexpected manner.[1] A lengthy shaggy dog story
derives its humour from the fact that the joke-teller held the attention of the
listeners for a long time (such jokes can take five minutes or more to tell)
for no reason at all, as the end resolution is essentially meaningless.[2] The
nature of their delivery is reflected in the English idiom spin a yarn, by way
of analogy with the production of yarn.
Freddie the
Frog walks into a bank to get a loan. He gets in and looks around for the loan
officer's desk. Finally, he spots the sign on a desk - "P. Black Personal
Loans". Deciding that this is the person he wants to see, he hops over and
gets into the chair.
She sees
him, and introduces herself "Hi, I'm Patty, how may I help you?"
"Hi, I
would like a $12,000 loan so that I can fix up my pad" replies Freddie.
Patty
replies "Well, let's see what we can do for you. We will need to fill out
this loan application, and then we'll see." So, they fill out the question
concerning name, address, credit references, and the like.
Starting the
process, he says, "Okay, what's your name?"
The frog
says, "Freddie Jagger."
The loan
officer says, "Really? Any relation to Mick Jagger?"
The frog
says, "Yeah, he's my dad."
"Excellent,
excellent" Patty says, and they continue with the form.
Finally,
they get to the point where they have to identify collateral. "Well, Mr.
Frog, what do you have for collateral?"
"Collateral,
what in the world is collateral?" asks Freddie...after all he is a frog,
and what do frogs know about collateral?
"You
see, collateral is something that you have of value which the bank can take
possession of just in case you cannot repay the loan we gave you" Patty
replied.
"Can I
have a day to think about this Miss Black?" Freddie says.
"Why of
course, just come back in tomorrow, and we will finish the application
then."
So, the next
day, Freddie comes hopping back in, and goes back to Patty's desk. "OK
Patty, I'm ready to finish the application now!" he announces.
"Good"
says Patty. "What have you decided to declare as collateral for the
loan?"
"Well,
I thought long and hard about this, and I decided on this" and he produces
from his pocket a small glass elephant that his grandmother had given him, and
places it on Patty's desk.
Patty, understandably
surprised had to stifle a laugh. "This is very nice Mr. Frog, ummmm...just
a moment, I need to talk to the manager about this." She gets up from her
desk, and takes the elephant with her. Walking into the manager's office, she
closes the door, and bursts out in laughter.
"Well
Miss Black, something must be very funny to make you laugh so hard."
Wiping tears
from her eyes she told him what happened. "A frog walked into the bank and
wants a $12,000 loan. For collateral he wants to use this little glass
elephant!"
The manager,
with a serious tone says, "Well Miss Black, let me see the elephant",
and she hands it to him. He examines it, turns it around a few times and looks
at her and says "Give the frog the money."
Patty stops
laughing, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Why on earth should we give
him the money?"
"Don't
you know what this is Miss Black?" he says.
"Well,
ummm..no, I guess not" Patty replies.
"It's a
nick knack, Patty Black, give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling
Stone."
There is a
tribe in Africa called the Trids. They live in an isolated valley, and every
year when the rains come, their village gets flooded out. So one year the chief
decides that enough is enough, and plans to move the tribe to higher ground. The
problem is that for generations they have been practically imprisoned in this
by a very large monster. Occasionally one scout can get by him, but usually the
monster just kicks him back down the hill.
The chief
chose his best scout to try to find a route for the people to take to avoid the
monster. The scout began his ascent up the hill, but before long the jumped out
and booted him down the hill with a mighty roar.
The chief
figured that maybe several men could confuse the beast and either kill it, or
draw it away long enough to begin allowing people to pass. But sure enough, the
monster would jump out from behind the bushes and kick the Trid scouts right back
down into the village. The chief was getting very frustrated with this, and
decided to let the witch doctor have a try at calling evil spirits to dispose
of the monster.
In order for
the spirits to know what to attack, the witch doctor must be able to see the
monster so he can point it out to the spirits. So, up the hill the witch doctor
and his apprentice went. The apprentice ran around a bit to draw the attention
of the monster away from the witch doctor. But before the witch doctor could
finish his incantation, the monster had kicked both him and his apprentice back
down the hill.
By this time
the chief was really depressed. His best scouts and warriors could not defeat
the monster, and even his witch doctor had failed in the task. One day a rabbi
happened to be traveling through the region, and he entered the village. He
asked the chief why he, and all of his people were so downcast. The chief told
him about the terrible monster that would roar fiercely and kick them all down
the hill every time they tried to pass. With the rainy season coming, he wanted
to move the tribe before the floods began.
The rabbi
figured that this was all just superstition, so he made up a story to give the
people courage. He said to the chief "I have dealt with this type of beast
before, and I have special powers over them. I will go up the hill to meet him,
and when he tries to kick me, God in heaven will smite him down. And then you
will be rid of this beast forever."
The chief
was duly impressed, and told the rabbi to go and deal with the beast. The chief
offered the rabbi his best scouts to help him find the monster. The rabbi
responded "No, the Lord will lead me to him, and I must do this
alone." So, up the hill the rabbi climbed...alone. The rabbi figured that
he would lie down, make a few roaring noises, and then hike down the mountain,
declaring the village rid of its menace.
Suddenly
from out behind the bushes popped the beast. And then a scout who had secretly
followed him ran to distract him away from the rabbi. The rabbi knew his bluff
had been called, and decided to stay with his story, thinking that God would
save him after all. He jumped directly in front of the monster and said
"Go ahead monster, kick me."
The monster
looked at him a bit puzzled and then said to the rabbi "I can't kick
you."
The rabbi
was astonished. "Why can't you kick me?" he replied.
The monster
growled back to the holy man "Silly rabbi, kicks are for Trids."
There was a
tribe in the jungles of Brazil which was a very superstitious people. They had
gods for everything, and were always very careful not to offend them. One of
the gods declared to the priest of the tribe that a gift is a part of the soul
of the giver, and if you ever throw away a gift, the gods will frown upon you
because you have shown great disrespect for your fellow tribesman.
As you could
guess, this presented serious storage problems for the people in the tribe. This
was especially true for the chief of the tribe. People were always giving him
presents, hoping to gain his, and the gods' favor.
Soon the
chief had to add a second story onto his grass hut to store things. The attic
of the chief's hut was used to store the most precious gift he would receive
each year...a new throne, lovingly made by all of the villagers.
Of course,
he couldn't refuse nor throw away this gift because it would be the ultimate
act of disrespect to his tribes people. So, year after year he placed the
previous year's throne in the attic. And year by year the rafters would sag
just a little bit more.
One year,
when the king was entertaining some of the more important members of the tribe
the roof could no longer take the strain and collapsed. Everybody inside the
hut was killed instantly.
What is the
moral of the story? "He who lives in grass houses should not stow
thrones."
A guy has
spent five years traveling all around the world making a documentary on Native
dances. At the end of this time, he has every single native dance of every
indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up in Alice Springs so he
pops into a pub for a well earned beer.
He gets
talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about his project. The
Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher's Dance".
The guy's a
bit confused and says "Butcher's Dance? What's that?"
"What?
You no see Butcher's Dance?"
"No,
I've never heard of it."
"Oh
mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see
Butcher's Dance?"
"UmmSUM.
I got a corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?"
"No no,
not corroborree. Butcher's Dance much more important than corroborree."
"Oh,
well how can I see this Butcher's Dance then?"
"Mate,
Butcher's Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher's
Dance."
"Look,
I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa,
to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent
me from recording this one last dance."
"OK,
mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles,
you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles till you
see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here you gotta leave
car, coz much to rough for driving. You strike out due west into setting sun.
You walk 3 days till you hit creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2
days you find where creak flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to
cross mountains here though. You now head south for half day till you see pass
through mountains. Pass very difficult, very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to
get through rocky pass. When through, head north-west for 4 days till reach big
huge rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man's head. From rock, walk due west for
2 days and you find village. Here you see Butcher's Dance."
So the guy
grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a couple of hours he
finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he's forced to crawl
along at a snails pace and so he doesn't reach the tree until dusk and he's
forced to set up camp for the night. He sets out bright and early the following
morning. His spirits are high and he's excited about the prospect of capturing
on film this mysterious dance which he had never heard mention of before. True
to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three days and
follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains. The merciless
sun is starting to take it's toll by this time and his spirits are starting to
flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass through the hills -
nothing will prevent him from
completing his life's dream.
The
mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and at times
they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But after three
and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force their way clear and
continue their long trek.
When they
reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low and their feet
are covered with blisters but they steel themselves and head out on the last
leg of their journey.
Two days
later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives feed them and
give them fresh water and they begin to feel like new men. Once he's recovered
enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he has come to
film there Butcher's Dance.
"Oh
mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher's Dance last night. You too late. You
miss dance."
"Well,
when do you hold the next dance."
"Not
till' next year."
"Well,
I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me,
tonight?"
"No,
no, no! Butcher's Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more, gods
get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher's Dance you come back
next year."
The guy is
devastated. But he has no other option but to head back to civilization and
back home.
The
following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out
again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to spend a
week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is
present to witness it.
However,
right from the start things go wrong. Heavy rains that year have turned the
dirt track to mud and the car gets bogged every few miles, finally forcing them
to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the
distance to the tree. They reach the creek and the mountains without any
further hitch, but halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck
by a fierce storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to
cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to
attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements.
Then, before they have traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew
sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey to the rock
and then the village enormously.
Eventually,
having lost all sense of how long they have been traveling, they stagger into
the village at about 12:00 noon. "The Butcher's Dance!" gasps the
guy. "Please don't tell me I'm too late!"
The chief
recognizes him and says "No, white fella. Butcher's Dance performed
tonight. You come just in time."
Relieved
beyond measure, the crew spend the rest of the afternoon setting up their
equipment - preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid.
As dusk
falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and adorn
themselves in all manner of bird's feathers and animal skins.
Once
darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a
huge roaring fire. A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike
as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire
body enters the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or
medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief "What's he
doing?"
"Hush"
whispers the chief. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our
rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the
dreamworld watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and,
if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and
protect us for another year."
The chanting
of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he removes himself from the
circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land
and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm.
The guy is
becoming court up in the fervor of the moment himself. This is it. He now
realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to
witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by
mankind.
The chief
strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to
sing:
"You
butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in
and shake it all about"
A rich
rancher goes to visit the zoo, and is fascinated by the gnu display. He strikes
up a conversation with one of the caretakers. The caretaker says that the
current gnu they have is spending too much time in the gnu house sleeping
because he is getting too old. He goes on to tell the rancher that they will be
having him destroyed so that they can use the space for a pair of younger gnus.
The rancher
says "Whoah, don't destroy him, I wouldn't mind having a gnu for a
pet!"
After
checking with the zoo director, the keeper gives the gnu to the rancher. The
rancher gets the gnu to his ranch, and thinks it is pretty neat to have one.
Soon though,
the rancher tires of just watching the gnu munch grass and decides to try to
train him.
So he first
tries to get him to sit up...the animal just won't do it. Next he tries
fetch...the old gnu just stares at him.
Next it was
lie down...the gnu just stands there chewing his cud.
Disgusted,
the rancher goes back to the zoo and finds the keeper.
"I want
to give you guys back your gnu, he is the stupidest animal I've ever seen. He
won't sit, lie down, or anything."
The caretaker
looks at the rancher and says "We can't take him back now, he is your
responsibility. Besides, I could have told you that you can't teach an old gnu
dog tricks!"
In the days
of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, a young, recently promoted
Knight, Sir Notalot, joined that august body just as they were about to go out
on yet another of their interminable forays after the Holy Grail.
He ran,
panting, into the court to find King Arthur alone and he said, "Sire, what
must I do to join the other knights on their quest?"
King Arthur
said "Well, first you must get yourself some armour - it is dangerous out
there!"
So Sir
Notalot went off to the chief armourer and said "I need armour to go in
search of the Holy Grail - what can you offer me?"
The Armourer
said "Well, I can do you the bespoke stainless steel all-over protect-all
with expanding cod-piece for 100 livres, the same model in galvanised iron for
80 livres or the fully rusting chain mail for 60 livres"
Poor Sir
Notalot could not afford any of these options, so he said "What can you do
for 20 livres?"
The armourer
said "If you care to go round the back of the Frog and Bucket ... "
(at least that's what I think he said) "... you will find a large pile of
discarded pewter ale tankards. Collect as many as you can and bring them back
here and I shall fashion them into armour for you"
So, Sir
Notalot went to the inn and collected all the pewter mugs he could carry and
took them back to the armourer. This good man then proceeded to batter the
tankards flat and hang them on strings around Sir Notalot's neck until his
whole body was covered. The only problem was that Sir Notalot *clanked* at
every step.
Sir Notalot
walked back to the court - clankity, clankity all the way. He walked into King
Arthur's presence to show off his new armour and the King said "This is
all very well, but you need a fine charger to ride with the other knights when
they leave tomorrow"
Sir Notalot
then went to the farrier to see what he could offer. The farrier said
"Well, I have this fine white charger at 100 livres or this slightly
smaller dappled mare at 80 livres or...."
Sir Notalot
said "OK, cut the crap, what have you got for 20 livres? That is all I
have and I must leave with the other knights tomorrow"
The farrier
thought for a moment and said "I do have this magnificent Saint Bernard
dog which has recently been reprocessed since the owner couldn't keep up with
the brandy consumption - will that do?"
Sir Notalot
paid over the money, jumped onto the dog's back and galloped back to the King -
dragging his feet in the dust as he went, with his armour clanking along -
draggity, clank, draggity, clank.
He reached
the King, who said "Just in time, the others have gone that way"
(Pointing to the East)
So, Sir
Notalot charged out on his St Bernard, clanking and dragging his feet (clankity
drag, clankity drag). at that point it started to rain and the water ran inside
the hammered pewter pots and down Sir Notalot's legs, soaking the St Bernard as
well. And then the rain was so heavy that the road (Just a mud track, really)
started to flood and the clankity-drag noise became more of a sort of a
clankity-sploosh noise. And then the thunder and lighting started. Eventually,
Sir Notalot reached the inn where the other knights had stopped for a rest. He
rode up to the door and said to the inn-keeper "Hail,inn-keeper"
(since it was hailing by now) "have you a room?"
And the
inn-keeper said "No chance - I am full with these round-tablers"
In despair,
Sir Notalot said "But surely you have somewhere I can shelter from the
storm?" and pointing to his St Bernard he said.... .
"You
wouldn't send a knight out on a dog like this?"
An old man
lived with his hound-dog, Mace, in a run-down shack on the outskirts of town. He
had no family and only a few meager possessions: a table and chair, a bed, a
bag of hand tools, and his dog. He used the tools to do odd jobs in town, for
which he usually would be paid enough to get food for the next day. Mace and
his master lived from one day to the next on what little these jobs would bring
in. The dog was just a normal hound, with one exception: while most dogs like
to chew on grass occasionally, Mace loved it. When the old man was in town,
Mace would spend the day in the yard in front of the house, chewing away on the
lawn.
One bright,
sunny day the old man said goodbye to his dog and headed into town to work. He
had a plumbing repair job in one of the homes there that would take him most of
the day and would probably pay enough for food for the remainder of the week,
if he managed the money carefully. He headed for town with a spring in his step
and a whistle on his lips. Inside the house and ready to start, the old man
reached in the bag for his wrench. To his surprise, he didn't feel it. He dug
around again, but there didn't seem to be any wrench. He looked in the bag,
then dumped its contents on the floor, but still no wrench. Reality set in. Without
a wrench he couldn't finish the job, and without the pay he couldn't even buy
food for that night's supper, let alone for tomorrow. When he finally came to
grips with reality, he told the lady who hired him what the situation was. While
she sympathized with his situation, the job needed to be done. If the old man couldn't
do it, she would have to hire someone else.
The old man
packed up his tools and headed home, head bowed and shoulders stooped. The
whistle was gone and no longer was there a spring in his step. A walk that
normally took 15 minutes seemed to last forever. But finally the old shack came
into view, and there was Mace in the distance, munching away as usual on the
lawn. When the dog saw his master, he came running, tail wagging, telling the
old man how glad he was to see him.
Kneeling
beside the hound, the man began to pet him, and through tear-filled eyes told
the dog that there would be no supper tonight and no food for tomorrow. What's
more, without money to buy a new wrench, he had no idea what the future held. It
was the loneliest, most helpless feeling he ever had!
Then he
caught a glimpse of something shining in the grass. As the old man went over to
see what this piece of shining material was, his despair turned in an instant
to joy! It was the wrench! The old man had dropped it on his way out that
morning, and it would have been lost forever had Mace not been eating farther
away from the house than he usually did! The old man grabbed the dog, gave him
a hug that almost suffocated him, and ran into the house. Reaching for a stub
of pencil and the only piece of paper he had, he wrote a moving tribute to his
canine companion.
Few people
have ever heard these words...until now, that is. One man who did happen to
read them changed them a bit and has his name recorded in music history.
The old man
never did get the credit he deserved. But now you are privileged to read the
opening line of his original poem, which began:
"A
grazing Mace, how sweet the hound that saved a wrench for me."
A dog walks
into a bar, and strolls up to the bar. "Give me a beer bartender" he
says.
The
bartender kind of laughs and says to the dog "We don't serve dogs at this
bar."
The dog is
incensed and begins arguing with the bartender. Having heard enough, the
bartender says to the dog "You had better leave, or else I will shoot
you", and then the bartender pulls a pistol out from behind the bar.
The dog is
on a roll so he keeps on arguing. "You mean to tell me that you won't
serve me a drink just because I am a dog...even though I can pay for it?"
The
bartender says "Well, you heard me. We don't serve your kind here!",
and then shoots the dog in the foot.
This send
the dog into a yapping frenzy, and the patrons of the bar begin to laugh
uncontrollably. The dog makes a run for the door, but as he gets to the door,
he turns around and says "You'll see, I'll get revenge", turns to the
bartender and says "You had better watch out, I'll be back."
Two weeks
pass, and pretty much everybody has forgotten about what had happened. Suddenly,
the doors burst open, and in saunters the dog, limping with his foot all
bandaged up. All conversation in the bar stops, and all eyes are on the dog. He
walks in, looking from left to right, trying to spot the bartender.
Stopping in
the middle of the bar, he loudly proclaims "I'm looking for the man who
shot my paw!"
It's well
known that some species of fish on the coral reef have adapted to be able to
survive the poisonous sea anemone's sting, which gives them a safe place to
hide from predators.
What isn't
so well known is the story of the single fish that decided to be different. One
day he swam away from his pretective anemone, in search of some other hiding
place.
A first, he
swam into a small crevace in the rock, but he very quickly swam out of there,
chased by an eel. Then he decided he could hide inside a shell, so he found a
nice big one that he liked, but had to retreat from the crab that had got there
before him.
Finally,
exhaused, he swam into the coral beds, and hid among the brilliant coloured
fern-like fronds of the corals.
The next
day, when he hadn't come back to the anemone, some of the other fish decided to
go out and look for him. The hunted everywhere for him, but they couldn't find
him. Eventually, just as they had given up, they heard him calling to them.
They looked around, but they couldn't see him anywhere - he was perfectly
hidden by the coral.
Finally, he
showed himself, and they tried to persuade him to come back home, but he
refused - the coral was too good a hiding place to leave.
"After
all," he said, "with fronds like these, who needs anemones?"
He loved her
very much. He wanted this Valentine's day to be special...
So he had
ordered a bottle of her favorite liquor imported from France and it had arrived
in time for the occasion. On his way home, he stopped at the local florist. He
had planned to have a bouquet made with her favorite flower, white anemones.
But to his dismay, he found that the florist had sold all her flowers and had
only a few sterns of feathery ferns left for decoration.
In a moment
of inspiration, he had the answer. He asked the florist to make a bouquet using
the flask of liquor instead of flowers and what she produced was magnificent
well beyond his expectations. He added a card, and proceeded home.
When he
arrived, his wife was beautiful in her most elegant gown, and it was apparent
that she had spent much of the day preparing a romantic candlelight dinner for
the two of them.
He presented
her with his gift, and she opened the card to read, "Absinthe makes the
heart grow fonder."
With a tear
in her eye, she whispered to him lovingly, "Yes, and with fronds like
these, who needs anemones."
The Lone
Ranger and Tonto walked into a bar one day and sat down to drink a beer. After
a few minutes, a big tall cowboy walked in and said "Who owns the big
white horse outside."
The Lone
Ranger stood up, hitched his gunbelt, and said, "I do, why?"
The cowboy
looked at the Lone Ranger and said "I just thought you'd like to know that
your horse is about dead outside!!"
The Lone
Ranger and Tonto rushed outside and, sure enough, Silver was about dead from
heat exhaustion. The Lone Ranger got him some water and made him drink it and
soon Silver was starting to feel a little better.
The Lone
Ranger turned to Tonto and said, "Tonto, I want you to run around Silver
and see if you can create enough of a breeze to make him start to feel
better."
Tonto said,
"Sure Kemosabe" and took off running circles around Silver.
Not able to
do anything else but wait, the Lone Ranger returned to the bar to finish his
drink.
A few
minutes later, another cowboy struts into the bar and announces, "Who owns
that big white horse outside?"
The Lone
Ranger stands again, and claims, "I do, what's wrong with him this
time?"
The cowboy
says to him, "Nothing much, I just wanted you to know ......You left your
Injun runnin"!!!"
One night,
the Potato family sat down to dinner--Mother Potato and her three daughters. Midway
through the meal, the eldest daughter spoke up. "Mother Potato?" she
said. "I have an annoucement to make. "
"And
what might that be?" said Mother, seeing the obvious excitement in her
eldest daughter's eyes.
"Well,"
replied the daughter, with a proud sheepish grin, "I'm getting
married!"
The other
daughters squealed with surprise as Mother Potato exclaimed, "Married!
That's wonderful! And who are you marrying, Eldest daughter?"
"I'm
marrying a Russet!"
"A
Russet!" replied Mother Potato with pride. "Oh, a Russet is a fine
tater, a fine tater indeed!"
As the
family shared in the eldest daughter's joy, the middle daughter spoke up. "Mother?
I, too, have and announcement."
"And
what might that be?" encouraged Mother Potato.
Not knowing quite
how to begin, the middle daughter paused, then said with conviction, "I
too, am getting married!"
You,
too!" Mother Potato said with joy. "That's wonderful! Twice the good
news in one evening! And who are you marrying, Middle daughter?"
"I'm
marrying an Idaho!" beamed the middle daughter.
"An
Idaho!" said Mother Potato with joy. "Oh, an Idaho is a fine tater, a
fine tater indeed!"
One again,
the room came alive with laughter and excited plans for the future, when the
youngest Potato daughter interrupted. "Mother? Mother Potato? Um, I, too,
have an announcement to make."
"Yes?"
said Mother Potato with great anticipation.
"Well,"
began the youngest Potato daughter with the same sheepish grin as her eldest
sister before her, "I hope this doesn't come as a shock to you, but I am
getting married, as well!"
"Really?"
said Mother Potato with sincere excitement. "All of my lovely daughters
married! What wonderful news! And who, pray tell, are you marrying, Youngest
daughter?"
"I'm
marrying Dan Rather!"
"Dan
Rather?!" Mother Potato scowled suddenly. "But he's just a common
tater!"
The Convent
of St. Elias PRILEP, Macedonia (AP)
Outside a
small Macedonian village close to the border between Greece and strife-torn Yugoslavia,
a lone Catholic nun keeps a quiet watch over a silent convent. She is the last
caretaker of the site of significant historical developments spanning more than
2,000 years. When Sister Maria Cyrilla of the Order of the Perpetual Watch
dies, the convent of St. Elias will be closed by the Eastern Orthodox Patriarch
of Macedonia.
However,
that isn't likely to happen soon as Sister Maria, 53, enjoys excellent health. By
her own estimate, she walks 10 miles daily about the grounds of the convent,
which once served as a base for the army of Attila the Hun. In more ancient
times, a Greek temple to Eros, the god of love, occupied the hilltop site.
Historians
say that Attila took over the old temple in 439 A.D. and used it as a base for
his marauding army. The Huns are believed to have first collected and then
destroyed a large gathering of Greek legal writs at the site. It is believed
that Attila wanted to study the Greek legal system and had the writs and other
documents brought to the temple. Scholars differ on why he had the valuable
documents destroyed - either because he was barely literate and couldn't read
them, or because they provided evidence of democratic government that did not
square with his own notion of rule by an all-powerful tyrant.
When the
Greek church took over the site in the 15th Century and the convent was built,
church leaders ordered the pagan statue of Eros destroyed, so another ancient
Greek treasure was lost. Today, there is only the lone sister, watching over
the old Hun base, amidst the strife of war torn Yugoslavia, and when she goes,
that will be it.
Thus, that's
how it ends, with no Huns, no writs, no Eros, and nun left on base.
There once
was a famous pitcher for the Milwaukee Brewers named Mel Famie. He was a great
relief pitcher, a 0.45 ERA, and averaged 1.6 SO's per inn ing. He did have one
flaw though, he liked to sneak a six pack or two into the bullpen during games.
Setting the
stage for an exciting season finish, in the final stretch to the playoffs, the
race was tight. It was the last game of the season, and they were tied with the
Yankees for the division lead.
It is the
bottom of the ninth inning the game is tied at 0-0. Mel had started on his beer
at the seventh inning, figuring that he wouldn't be used. One, two, three,
four, the cans go by. By now, Mel is feeling a bit heated. The starting pitcher
suddenly gets a cramp in his arm and can't continue. The coach calls Mel to the
mound to relieve him.
Mel quickly
stuffs his beer can into his back pocket, and gets out there. His first batter
comes up...BALL ONE! The ump yells. Soon the count is full, and sure enough,
Mel loses him. The next batter comes up...Mel has him at 0-2, but then throws
four straight balls and walks him too. The coach wants to pull him, but Mel
snows him into leaving him in. Mel strikes out the next batter with three
straight fastballs.
So, Mel
feels confident and sneaks the beer out of his pocket, and sucks the whole
thing down, and slyly drops the can behind the mound. He faces his next
batter...and can barely see the plate. He throws a ball just a bit outside, and
then a strike. Then three more balls in a row. Now the bases are loaded, and
only one out, but Mel somehow convinces the coach he can throw a double play
ball. He gets the count to 2-2, then 3-2, and then he throws a curveball wide
for ball four, walking in the winning run.
One of the
Yankees quickly runs out behind the mound and picks up the discarded beer can. One
of his teammates says "What on earth do you want that thing for?"
To which he
replies, "Don't you know? This is the beer that made Mel Famie walk us!
There once
was a catcher for the California Angels named Tom Torre. He was a good catcher,
he could stop any wild pitch from getting through, and throw out even somebody
as fast as Ricky Henderson without any effort.
Tom's only
downfall was that he was deathly afraid of getting run into at the plate when a
runner was coming home. Try as he may, he would jump out of the way just before
the runner got there.
Well, here
the Angels are, FINALLY in the World Series. It's the seventh game, and the
bottom of the ninth inning. There's one out, and runners at first and second
base. The Angels are ahead of the Dodgers 3-2, and tasting the victory champagne
already. All they need is a double play ball and it is all over...they are the
champs!
Just then,
the pitcher hangs a slow curve ball over the plate. SMACK!!! Goes the ball
against the bat, as it heads out to the right field wall. One run scores...and
they wave the second runner around third.
It's going
to be close...the throw comes from right and Tom catches it! There he is, just
waiting for the runner, waiting to tag him out...and just as the runner gets
there, he jumps out of the way, and the Angels lose to the Dodgers...the
ultimate disgrace.
After the
game, the coach was being interviewed. He was really bitter, and mad. The
reporter asked "Well coach how do you plan to change your lineup next year
to try to win it all next year?"
The coach
snapped "Well, the first thing I'm going to do is get rid of that chicken
catcher Torre!"
These three
strings are walking along, dying of thirst in the middle of Death Valley. After
a long, long trek. They come to a bar.
"Boy,
this is just in time...I can't go any farther." So he walks into the bar
and orders a drink.
"Can't
you read the sign there? We don't serve no strings here" bellows the
bartender.
"But
I'm going to die of thirst" protests the string.
With that
the bartender picks him up, and throws him out into the street.
One of his
buddies says "I'll disguise myself as a rope and go in to get us a
drink." So, in he goes.
"Hey, I
thought I told your friend that we don't serve your kind here. Now get out that
door before I stomp on you!" So he quickly retreats out the door.
Finally the
last string says "Hey, I've got an idea...I'll tie myself up like a
pretzel, and frizzle out my ends, so he won't recognize me." So in he goes
into the bar. He gets up to the bar and orders a drink.
The
bartender eyes him a little suspiciously. "Hey, aren't you one of those
strings I told to get out of here?"
To which the
string answered "No, I'm a frayed knot."
There was
this western town whose ranchers were being bothered by a cougar. This cougar
had attacked the ranchers livestock on many occassions. The ranchers in this
town hired the famous Roy Rogers to lead a posse to track down this cougar and
kill him.
Roy lead
this posse wearing his brand new alligator skin boots. he had just acquired
them as was very proud of the way they looked.
After
tracking the cougar for a number of days, they finally came upon him. Roy took
a shot but missed, letting the cougar get away. That night the posse set up
camp. While everyone was sleeping, the cougar attacked the campsite, but was
chased off without anyone getting hurt. Unfortunately in the foray, the cat did
destroy Roy alligator skin boots.
Roy was very
upset about losing his new boots. He rode back to town (which was painful
without boots), got an old pair of boots, and went out after the cougar by
himself. After a few days of tracking, he caught up with the cougar. He picked
up his rifle, aimed, and with one shot, killed the cougar.
He placed
the cougar on the back of the horse and rode back to town with it. As the
ranchers in town saw the carcass on the back of the horse they came out and
cheered Roy's success. As he rode up in front of the hotel, surrounded by
cheering ranchers and townfolk, Dale Evans came out of the hotel and asked,
"Pardon me, Roy, is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?"
Three friars
were banished from their monastery for various rule violations, so they decided
to start a business together. They traveled around until they found a town that
they liked, and opened up a plant shop. Their floral business was soon
thriving.
One day, a
woman was shopping at the friar's store, and while she was strolling down an
aisle with her toddler, a large plant reached out, grabbed the child, and ate
it. Needless to say, the women was quite upset at the loss of her child.
However, the friars refused to believe that one of their plants could have done
such a thing. The woman told all of her friends about the incident, and soon
everyone in the town was in an uproar. They decided to kick the friars out of
town. Every person in the town, except for a man named Hugh, gathered outside
of the friars shop, shouting, waving sticks, and demanding that they leave. But
the friars said "No. We're not leaving". So the townspeople gave up
and went home.
Well, a
couple weeks later, another woman was walking through the friar's shop, looking
at plants with her baby, when a plant grabbed her child and ate it. She ran
through the streets screaming that a plant had swallowed her baby. The
townspeople were outraged, and again gathered outside the floral shop (except
for Hugh), waving torches, and demanding that the friars leave town at once.
But the friars said, "No way." and all the people gave up and went home.
A few days
later, yet another woman dared to take her child into the floral shop. She held
her infant tightly in her arms, but it was no use. A large ficus wrestled the
child from her arms, and ate it.
When the
townspeople heard of this, they were extremely upset. They again gathered
outside the friar's store (except for Hugh), yelling and threatening bodily
harm to the friars if they didn't leave town. But the friars said, "We're
staying". So, the citizens gave up and began to go home. Just then, Hugh
showed up. He walked up to the friars, and said, "Get out of town,
now!". The friars immediately packed up all their belongings and fled that
very day, never to be heard from again.
The moral of
this story is: Only Hugh can prevent florist friars.
A man is
waiting for wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that
his son was born without torso, arms or legs. The son is just a head! But the
dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion.
After 21 years,
the son is old enough for his first drink. Dad takes him to the bar and
tearfully tells the son he is proud of him. Dad orders up the biggest,
strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and
the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of
alcohol. Swoooop! A torso pops out!
The bar is
dead silent; then bursts into a whoop of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son
to drink again. The patrons chant "take another drink!" The bartender
still shakes his head in dismay. Swoooop! Two arms pop out.
The bar goes
wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. The patrons
chant "take another drink!" The bartender ignores the whole affair. By
now the boy is getting tipsy, and with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his
drink and guzzles the last of it. Swoooop! Two legs pop out.
The bar is
in chaos. The father thanks God. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles
to the left.... then to the right.... right through the front door, into the
street, where a truck runs into him and kills him. The bar falls silent. The
father moans in grief.
The
bartender cleans his glasses and whistles an old Irish tune. The father looks
at the bartender in disbelief and asks, "How can you be so cold and
callous?"
The
bartender says..."That boy should have quit while he was a head."
The
management at Sesame Street was having trouble keeping drivers on their bus
route. It seemed like every week they would have to hire a new driver because
the last one would have quit. So, when they hired Maxine they warned her that
the job would entail a certain degree of crowd control along with her duties as
a bus driver.
"No
problem" she replied, "I've handled plenty of tough cookies in my
time." She thought to herself "This is going to be a piece of
cake!"
The first
day on her route she comes to her first stop. There at the bust stop stands a
cow. MAxine figures, OK, this is odd. But she stops the bus and opens the door.
"Hi, my name is Maxine, and I'm your new driver on the Sesame Street bus. What
is your name?"
The cow
replied "My name is Patty!" At the next stop another cow is waiting
at the stop. Maxine pulls the bus over, and opens the door. "Hi, my name
is Maxine, welcome to the Sesame Street bus! What's your name?"
The new cow
replied "My name is Patty!" She then turns and sits in the seat next
to the other Patty.
At the third
stop there is a boy wandering aimlessly around the bench. Maxine stops the bus
and opens the door. The boy shuffles onto the bus. "Hi, my name is Maxine,
and I'm your new driver on the Sesame Street bus. What's your name?
The boy just
looks dumbly at her. Then the first Patty speaks up. "His name is Ross,
and he is what we call a 'special' student."
Maxine says
to Ross "Well Ross, it sure is nice to have you aboard. I hope you enjoy
your ride to sesame street."
No sooner
does the bus get underway, and Ross starts making disgusting noises at the two
cows, and it isn't long before they start doing what cows do, and making a mess
of the bus.
At the final
stop another boy gets on the bus. "Hi driver" he says as he runs to
the back of the bus.
"Wait,
not so fast" says Maxine, "I want to get to know my students." So
he comes back up and she says to him "My name is Maxine. I'm your new
driver, what is your name?"
He looks at
her and says "My name is Lester Cleese, can I go now please?" Then he
runs to the back of the bus.
The bus
barely gets moving and Lester takes his shoes off. Soon the cows are screaming
"EEEEEEWWW, Lester is picking the bunions on his feet and throwing them at
us. Make him stop!"
Maxine has
had more than she can handle. She speeds to the school practically shoves the
kids out the door, and then storms into the school office. "That's it, I QUIT!!!!
I can't handle this job!"
The
principal says to her "You mean you are quitting too? Why do you want to
quit?"
"I just
can't take it" she says. "We had two all beef Patties, special Ross,
and Lester Cleese picking bunions on the Sesame Street Bus!"
A Symphony
Orchestra was performing Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
There is an
extensive section where the bass players don't play for 20 minutes or so. One
of them decided that, rather than stand around on stage looking bored and
stupid, they'd all just file offstage during their tacit-time and hang out
backstage, then return when they were about to play.
On the night
of the performance, the bass players filed off as planned. The last one had
barely come off stage when the leader suggested "Hey, we've got 20
minutes, let's run across the street to the bar for a few!" This idea was
met with great approval, so off they went, tuxedos and all, to loosen up.
Fifteen
minutes and few rounds later, one of the bass players said, "Shouldn't we
be heading back -- it's almost time." But the section leader announced,
"Oh don't worry, we'll have some extra time -- I played a little joke on
the conductor. Before the performance started, I tied string around each page
of his score so that he'd have to untie each page to turn it. The piece will
drag on a bit. -- We've got time for another round!"
So round
they did, and finally - sloshed and staggering - they made their way back
across the street to finish Ludwig's 9th. Upon entering the stage, they
immediately noticed the conductor's haggard, drawn, and livid expression.
"Gee," one queried, "why do you suppose he looks so tense?"
"You'd
be tense, too," laughed the leader. "It's the bottom of the 9th, the
score is tied, and the basses are loaded!"
There were
these two great friends, Sam the Clam, and Freddie Frog. These guys were tight,
really inseparable. They would party every night together, and have great
times. Sadly, one day, Sam the Clam passed away. Freddie was inconsolable. He
wept for days for his dead friend, and weeks later Freddie also died.
As Freddie
Frog approached the Pearly Gates, he asked St. Peter where he might find his
old friend Sam the Clam. Peter's eyes grew sober as he said, "Hmm, we
don't have any Sam the Clam here. He must have gone to that other place."
Freddie was
greatly saddened, and asked if he could go down to see his friend for just one
night. Peter replied, "Well, it's very unorthodox, but I'll allow it.
Here, take this harp, so when you come back tomorrow I'll know it's you."
Freddie was pleased, and taking his harp he descended into hell.
Meeting the
Devil at the gates of hell, he asked where he might find his friend Sam.
"Oh, sure!" said the Devil. "Sam the Clam! He owns that disco
down on the strip." So Freddie went down to Sam's club, and the two had a
ball. They danced, drank, and partied all night. That morning they said their
goodbyes and Freddie was off.
As he
returned to Heaven, he called inside, "Hey, Peter! It's me, Freddie Frog!
Lemme in!"
"Well,"
replied Peter, "if it is you, isn't there something you should have to
prove it?"
Freddie
Frog's eyes grew wide with fear. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed. "I left
my harp in Sam Clam's Disco!!"
A lady awoke
one morning and discovered her dog was not moving. She called her vet who asked
her to bring the dog in. After a brief examination, the vet pronounced the dog
dead.
"Are
you sure?", the distraught woman asked. "He was a great family pet.
Isn't there anything else you can do?"
The vet
paused for a moment and said, "There is one more thing we can do." He
left the room for a moment and came back carrying a large cage with a cat in
it. The vet opened the cage door and the cat walked over to the dog. The cat
sniffed the dog from head to toe and walked back to the cage.
"Well,
that confirms it." the vet announced. "Your dog is dead."
Satisfied
that the vet had done everything he possibly could, the woman sighed, "How
much do I owe you?"
"That
will be $330." the vet replied.
"I don't
believe it!!!", screamed the woman. "What did you do that cost $330!?
"Well",
the vet replied, "it's $30 for the office visit and $300 for the cat
scan."
The local
Baptist minister was going through a mid-life crisis and resolved that after
having to shave every day for the last 30 years, he was going to let the local
barber do it from now on. So the next morning, he ambled down to the town's
only barbershop. Once there, he discovered the barber's wife, Grace, was behind
the chair.
She told him
her husband had taken the day off to go fishing, and she was taking care of his
customers that day. The minister reluctantly sat down, knowing he had to have
the over night growth removed. When Grace was finished, his face was as smooth
as it ever was when he was a young boy.
"That'll
be $10, reverend", she proclaimed. He thought that was a little steep, but
paid it without complaining in order to keep his good reputation.
The next
morning, he was going to reconsider his decision to let someone else shave him
- especially at $10 a pop. He discovered though, that he had nothing to be
shaved off. It was as smooth as the moment Grace had finished the job the day
before. Several days went by and he had yet to consider putting the razor to
his face as no facial hair had appeared.
Several
weeks went by when he stopped by the barbershop to get his haircut. The barber
was behind the chair this time. The minister told the barber he hadn't shaved
since the barber's wife, Grace, did it several weeks before.
The barber
replied, "That's easy to explain. You were shaved by Grace, once
shaved--always shaved"!
One day many
years ago, a fisherman's wife blessed her husband with twin sons. They loved
the children very much, but couldn't think of what to name their children. Finally,
after several days, the fisherman said, "Let's not decide on names right
now. If we wait a little while, the names will simply occur to us."
After
several weeks had passed, the fisherman and his wife noticed a peculiar fact. When
left alone, one of the boys would also turn towards the sea, while the other
boy would face inland. It didn't matter which way the parents positioned the
children, the same child always faced the same direction.
"Let's
call the boys Towards and Away," suggested the fisherman. His wife agreed,
and from that point on, the boys were simply known as Towards and Away.
The years
passed and the lads grew tall and strong. The day came when the aging fisherman
said to his sons, "Boys, it is time that learned how to make a living from
the sea." They provisioned their ship, said their good-byes, and set sail
for a three month voyage.
The three
months passed quickly for the fisherman's wife, yet the ship had not returned. Another
three months passed, and still no ship. Three whole years passed before the
grieving woman saw a lone man walking towards her house. She recognized him as
her husband. "My goodness! What has happened to my darling boys?" she
cried.
The ragged
fisherman began to tell his story: "We were just barely one whole day out
to see when Towards hooked into a great fish. Towards fought long and hard, but
the fish was more than his equal. For a whole week they wrestled upon the waves
without either of them letting up. Yet eventually the great fish started to win
the battle, and Towards was pulled over the side of our ship. He was swallowed
whole, and we never saw either him nor the fish again."
"Oh
dear, that must have been terrible! What a huge fish that must have been!"
"Yes,
it was, but you should have seen the one that got Away...."
The circus
train had just pulled into town and the animals were being unloaded. Unfortunately
the handler was momentarily distracted and one of his prize exhibits, a talking
gnu, escaped.
He rounded
up a couple of the circus hands and set out after the talking gnu. They
searched up and down the streets asking folks if they'd seen a gnu around
anywhere, but not much luck.
Hours passed
and they decided to give up the search. But on the way back to the train the
happened down an alley they missed before. Hearing some people in a yard they
decided to stop and ask anyway. When the handler popped his head over the back
fence he saw some people having a barbecue, and he could scarcely believe what
he thought he saw on the barbecue grill.
A young man
had seen the handler looking over the fence and came over to see what he was so
upset about..
The handler
said, "Pardon me, boy, is that the chatty gnu that you chew?"
Chief Bearclaw
had everything a chief of the Native Americans could want... except a son and
heir to follow him. So he went to the medicine man one fine day and asked him
for advice. The medicine man promised to look into the matter, and he went into
the mountains and performed the sacred rituals and entered the medicine trance
where he conversed with his spirit guide. When he returned he called on Chief
Bearclaw and handed him a raven's feather. "You must go on a great
journey," he said. "The feather will show you the way. And when you
return home you must bring three animal skins with you. You will see many
strange animals on your way and your heart will tell you which ones to skin.
And when you return, I, or my son after me, will tell you what to do with them."
Bearclaw's
odyssey led him towards the setting sun for many days until he reached the
great Sea. There he took passage on a passing ship and many months later
disembarked in a strange land where some of the men were white and wore
clothes, and others were black and wore next to nothing. His spirit led him to
follow the black men into the wilds where the land was hot and dry and hardly
anything grew. There he saw a strange animal, larger than a deer, with hindpaws
nearly as big as itself, and on these it hopped about faster than a man could
run. It was the strangest animal Bearclaw had ever seen or heard of, even in
stories, and by signs he gave the black men to know that he wanted to learn its
name. "Kangaroo", they told him; and he caught one and skinned it.
His journey
led him still further westward and another crossing of the great sea, until he
came to a land where some of the men were brown and others were white. He
learned that some of the white men and some of the brown men were off on a hunt
to catch a terrible man-killer that was bigger and more fearsome than the
mountain lion of his homeland, and he joined the hunt and so proved his worth
in running the dreadful orange-black striped cat to earth that he was allowed
to keep the hide. By signs he gave the white men to understand that he wanted
to know the name of the animal, and they told him "Tiger". It was the
mightiest animal he had ever hunted, and was sure to be a totem of surpassing
power.
His journey
took him back to sea and then to another land of swamps and rivers, and more
black men, and here he saw a grotesque monster that lived in the river and had
a mouth larger than a tepee and tusks that could rend a man limb from limb
without the slightest effort. As soon as Bearclaw saw this monster he knew his
quest was at an end, if he could only contrive a means to slay it. Fortunately,
he was a hunter of renown and infinite resource, and though your chronicler can
barely credit it and is unable to tell you the means, Bearclaw slew and skinned
the monster. Only after much enquiry did he learn the name
"hippopotamus".
With these
three skins Bearclaw at last returned home and found his old friend still
alive. The medicine man danced for joy and said "All three of your wives
are eager to welcome you home. Present each one with one of the medicine skins
and they will be sure to bear you children before the year is out." And so
it proved. All on the same day, barely nine months later, the wife he gave the
kangaroo hide bore him a daughter of such surpassing beauty as to delight the
heart of the boldest warrior or mightiest chief. The wife he gave the tiger
hide bore him such a son as to make a father's heart sing for gladness - fated
to grow tall, straight-limbed, fierce of heart and strong of hand. But the wife
he gave the hippopotamus hide bore twins, a son and a daughter fully the equal
of their half-siblings. And Chief Bearclaw, now a father four times over on one
and the same day, smiled fondly and reflected...
"So,
the squaw on the hippopotamus is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other
two hides."
It seems
there was this fellow who was feeling a lot of pressure in his life, and he
thinks to himself, “I know - I’ll get out into the hills for a little camp out
- that’ll relax me.” So, he packs up his stuff and heads up into the hills. He
parks his car and hikes in a few miles until he finds a good spot, sets up
camp, and just spends the next couple of days getting back in touch with
nature.
After a
couple of days, he feels just great, and figures it’s time to head back to the
city. He packs up his stuff, and heads back to where he left the car, but after
he’s been hiking for about 4 hours, he’s starting to feel uncomfortably like he’s
lost - he should have come to his car about 2 hours ago.
“Okay,” he
says to himself, “I’m in trouble. But I remember what they taught me when I was
in Boy Scouts - if you’re lost, keep going in a straight line. If you start
veering around to find your trail, you can wind up going in circles.” So he took
his bearings, and headed straight ahead. He walked the rest of that day, camped
that night, and resumed walking the next morning. That afternoon, he finally
came to the end of the forest; the bad news was, he came right up to the edge
of a desert.
“Just great!”
he thinks to himself, “But I gotta remember - straight line!” So, he heads out
into the desert. About 4 hours later, he’s drunk all his water, the sun is
beating down, and he’s starting to suffer. Just then, he sees something off in
the distance (luckily straight ahead of him). He comes up on it, and finds that
it’s a large lever sticking up out of the ground.
“That’s
weird,” he thinks, and he reaches out towards it.
“DON’T TOUCH
THE LEVER!” a voice booms out. The guy looks around, but aside from a snake he
doesn’t see a living thing. He reaches out again.
“DON’T TOUCH
THE LEVER!” says the voice again. The guy looks around again, but still doesn’t
see anything. Just joking, he says to the snake, “I suppose that was you who
said that.”
“Of course it
was me - do you see anyone else around? I said don’t touch the lever!” says the
snake.
“Oh, wow - I’m
hallucinating,” said the guy. “Look, I need something to drink bad - is there
any water around here?”
The snake
said, “Yeah, there’s a well right over behind that sand dune. Follow me.”
The snake
led the guy around the dune, and there was a well. The guy pulled up some water
and took a long drink. When he started to feel a little better, he thought to
himself, “Whoa! Was I talking to a SNAKE?”
“Was I talking
to you?”
“Yeah,” said
the snake. “I’m Nate - Nate the Snake. I live out here.”
“Well, I’m
pleased to make your acquaintance. I really needed that water. Say,what was
that business about the lever?”
“Well, I’ll
tell you,” says Nate, “that lever is the lever that controls the entire
universe. If you had pulled that lever down, the whole universe would have just
shut right down, and everything would go flying off into space. As a matter of
fact, that’s why I’m out here in the desert - since the beginning of time, my
family has been the guardians of the lever, put out here to keep people from
touching it.”
“Wow!” says
the guy. Then he thinks to himself, “Hold it - I’m talking to a SNAKE! A
TALKING snake!” “Hey, do you know how much you could make in show business?
Have you ever thought about leaving the desert?”
“God, I
think about it all the time! I am so bored here!”
“Well,” said
the guy, “why don’t you come with me? We’ll start an act - we’ll be stars!”
“Hot damn!”
says the snake, and slithers up the guy’s leg and into his pocket.The guy heads
out, and within 5 minutes comes across a road, where he immediately gets picked
by a trucker and taken back into town. He and Nate head straight to an agent,
who books them on the spot - within a week they’re on the Tonight Show. They’re
instant hits. They get movie offers, they do Vegas, they have lunch-boxes made
with their pictures on them, they have Saturday morning cartoons made on their
adventures. Their success is enormous, and it goes on for years without any
show of abatement.
Unfortunately,
Nate was not exactly young when the whole thing started, and after years of
living the high life, he’s starting to feel it. He doesn’t know how to break
the news to his friend, though; they’ve been together so long,been through so
much together. Finally, he has to just come right out with it.
“Nate!” says
the guy, “why didn’t you just tell me? Of course I understand! Look, the act is
dissolved as of right this minute - what do I need more money for? I got more
money than I know what to do with! But, listen, Nate - what are you going to do
with yourself?”
“You know,”
says Nate, “this may sound crazy, but I really miss the desert. I think I’ll
retire out there - check up on that lever.”
“Well, old
friend, I hate to see you go, but if that’s what you want, you deserve it.
Goodbye, partner - I’d shake your hand, but you don’t have any.” And with that,
Nate slithered out, and made his way back to the desert. Of course, he was now
an extremely wealthy snake, so he used some of his money to spruce the old
place up. He had a highway put in, and a hotel, and a golf course, and a
casino, and an amusement park. Every morning he would leave his palatial suite
in the hotel and crawl across the highway to check up on the lever.
After a
couple of years, the guy thought to himself, “You know, I haven’t spoken to
Nate in a while - I think I’ll head out to see him.” So he hopped in his car
and took off. He was traveling along the new highway - along a long, straight
highway in the desert. Soon, he got to that semi-hypnotized state of ‘white
line fever.’
All of a
sudden, he saw something in the road ahead of him. My God! It was Nate! He gave
the wheel a sharp tug - Oh No! He was headed straight towards the Lever! The
Lever that controls the Universe! Straighten the wheel, but Aargh! Headed
straight at Nate again! His old friend Nate! Turn the wheel again, but Look
Out! The Lever! It could mean the end of everything!! Another quick yank to the
steering wheel, and the car ran right over Nate, and smashed him flat.
The moral: Better
Nate than Lever.
The Rairie
was the most feared animal in all the land--killed people, ravaged livestock,
trashed whole towns, you name it. The king had finally had enough, so a contest
was held to find the most deserving knight to kill the Rairie. The contest was
held, the knight selected, he was sent on his mission. Unfortunately, as the
knight snuck up on the sleeping beast to claim its head, he tripped and stabbed
it in the tail, instantly waking it. Enraged, the monster chased the knight day
in and day out, over hill and dale, until the Rairie cornered the knight at the
edge of the highest cliff overlooking the sea. The knight drew his sword as the
beast charged, but dropped it, fell to one side and covered his head, waiting
for the fatal blow. Which never came--the monster tripped on the sword and
plunged over the cliff to die in the sea.
The knight
returned to his king to relate the good news. The king exclaimed, "You
have been away for weeks, tell me your tale." The knight told it all,
ending with the accidental stumbling and death of the creature, and his
300-mile trek back to his lord.
To which the
king said, "That's a long way to trip a Rairie."
This marine
biology researcher in Florida hypothesized that if certain dolphins were fed a
diet of baby sea gulls they wouldn't age. Or die. Sure, they'd die from
accidents, but never from any sort of illness or old age, for that matter. Something
to do with proteins and enzymes. So, he applied for and got a grant to continue
this research. He found a place on the beaches of Long Island, NY, where he
could get all the baby sea gulls he wanted. He started his research, driving
his truck there and parking it in the parking lot above the beach bluffs.
While the
researcher is hand-carrying the immature avians up a trail from their beach
bluffs nest to the parking area, he comes across several mountain lions, fast
asleep across the trail (don’t ask me why there are several mountain lions at
the beach in New York). So he very, very carefully climbs over the lions
without waking them, and continues on his way. When he arrives at his truck, a
State Trooper is waiting there, having watched the entire thing, and promptly
arrests him.
Why?
For
transporting young gulls across staid lions for immortal porpoises.
One night,
as the clock strikes 12, a single shot rings out, shattering the silence of the
sleeping suburbs of Hamilton.
The next day
Thomas Anderson is called into the work at the police station. He is an older
man, skinny arms, a pot belly, and that speech impediment that makes his R’s
sound like W’s. The arthritis in his left hip keeps him up at night and also keeps
him to his desk; his days of patrolling the streets are long passed. The reason
he is still working at the station, 4 days a week, is his uncanny ability to
spot a perp. Two minutes in a room with a suspect and Thomas knows if he did
the crime.
This morning
is normally Thomas's day off. As he steps inside the sheriff pulls him aside.
"Thank
you for coming in Thomas, we're at our wits end!" He passes Thomas a case
file.
"We
responded to a call-in of gunfire at Mrs. Orme's house. She's the multimillion
dollar lotto winner from last weekend. When we got to her house we found the
body of William who, it turns out, worked at the store that she checked her
ticket at. He had been shot in the chest. "Mrs. Orme was dead on the floor
in front of him with the gun still in her hand. Her skull had been caved in
from behind."
"And
the gun was weally hews?" asks Thomas "No other fingerpwints on
it?"
"Nope,
just hers. We checked the boy's phone to see who he had contacted last night.
Five of his friends are in the lockup but none of them are giving us anything.
Can you do your thing? The rest of the station has given up and we need to find
out who the second murderer is, so we can stop them and retrieve the
money".
"I'll
talk to the wagermuffins. We'll see which one makes a wuckus."
Thomas takes
a seat in the interrogation room, the one way mirror at his back, and waits for
the first suspect to be sent in.
As the door
opens a small blond girl is ushered in by another cop, who seats her in front
of Thomas.
"What's
your name, giwl?" he asks.
"Jannet"
"Why
did William call you last night?"
"He
wanted me to cover his shift for him. He said he had come down with a bad flu
and would be sick for maybe a week."
"Did he
pull this sowt of thing often?"
"No, he
would never lie about that sort of thing. I've covered shifts for Will before
but he never pretended to be sick."
"That's
enough" Thomas says. "Thank you for your time" and the girl is
escorted away.
The next
suspect is an older man who looks like he has been questioned in the past.
"I told them already, I didn't do it" he says.
"I
know, I know" Thomas says. "We just need to know why you didn't pick
up your winging phone last night when William called you, and if he left a
voicemail."
"Yeah
he left a message. Said he was leaving town, parents were fighting or
something, and was going to have to cancel his lessons. I teach Will jiu jitsu
on thursday nights."
"That's
vewy helpful" sighs Thomas. "We are gwateful fow youw time."
As soon as
the older man leaves a big fat ginger guy pushes into the room, yelling.
"Get
your hands off me! I know my rights! If you touch me again you'll see me in
court!"
"Wow,
wow, no need to cause a wuckus! Tell me your name, son." Thomas shoos the
offending cop out of the room.
"Dillan.
And I want a lawyer!"
"I
don't think that will be necessawy, Dillan. You werw going out for birthday
dwinks with Will this Fwiday, cowwect?"
"Yeah"
Dillan says begrudgingly.
"He
called you to cancel the pawty?"
"How
did you know that?"
"Will
was cancelling evewything" says Thomas. "Youw fwee to go."
Thomas turns
to look at the mirror behind him. "I guess if it's not this next watbag
we'w out of luck and I got up eawly fow nothing."
A slender,
dark haired boy is led into the room. "What's his name?" Thomas asks
the policeman escorting him.
"Raymond
Angus" the cop says as he seats the boy at the table. "Goes by
Ray"
"Weally!?"
Thomas jumps up. "This is the guy!"
At this Ray
busts into tears. "I didn't want to!" he cries. "Will made me.
It's not my fault!"
The cop
takes the weeping boy away and the sheriff comes in, looking astounded.
"How
did you know Thomas? All you know was his name, he hardly even sat down!"
"Well"
says Thomas, knowingly. "Whewe thewe's a Will thews a Way"
A man is out
walking on a warm day along the edge of a remote pond. He is on the bank
enjoying the view when he suddenly loses his footing and falls into the pond.
The water is not deep but he does have to struggle to make it safely back to
shore. He climbs out, dripping wet, and notices that his wallet is not in his
pocket.
As he
ponders the pond, wondering whether he should jump back in and search for his
wallet, lo, what wonders appear! As he is looking at the surface of the water,
he sees a school of large carp chasing something around.
One carp
emerges at water surface and what does he have in its mouth but the guy's
wallet! Suddenly another carp appears at the surface and the first carp flips
the wallet to the second carp who catches it in his mouth. Then a third fish appears
and on and on it goes.
After
watching amazed for several hours, he decided to report this strange behavior
to the experts, but they told him it was a well-known phenomenon - it is known
as carp-to-carp walleting.
The story of
Mary Poppins as a nanny is well known. Less well-known is her subsequent
tale....
She traveled
to Hollywood, where she opened a shop on Sunset Boulevard as a fortune-teller.
Of course we already know she has supernatural powers, so it's no surprise that
she was quite skilled in fortune-telling, and her reputation grew rapidly.
She
continued to tell fortunes, and found that in particular, she always received a
very strong premonition whenever someone was about to have an onset of bad
breath. Her predictions of this turned out to be accurate 100% of the time. In
order to publicise her success at this, she had a large sign placed above her
door, which read: Super California Mystic Expert Halitosis.
Life was
desperate in rural Holland. As far as he could remember, the poor little dutch
boy could remember nothing but hardships. Food was scarce, his father was
abusive, and there was nothing to do after school but chores. Every day was
another hardship. The boy loved to dive from the windmill into the canal, but
his father hated to find that he had skipped out on his chores. Whenever he
returned, his father would beat him. However, if he didn't skip out, his fater
would find a reason to beat him anyhow. Life was nothing but hardships, except
for the secret escapes to practice diving from the windmill.
Eventually
the boy, now in his late teens, heard of a great contest in far-away Atlanta.
The best divers in the world, along with the best of everything else would meet
to decide who was REALLY the best. It would be the perfect escape from the
hardships of his mundane life.
He runs away
from home, sneaks aboard a freighter in Rotterdam and waits. No good. Of
course, he is discovered. Beaten by the crew, bloody, he is sent home to his
unimpressed father, who finds new hardships for him to endure.
A better
storyteller than I could tell you of his next four or five attempts to get to
the Atlanta games, each of which failed, yielding nothing but ever more painful
hardships. The poor little dutch boy stoicly endured each of them, perservering
and enduring.
Eventually,
he stows away in a cruise liner heading for the USA. He isn't found until four
days out at sea. The captain has the discretion of calling for a chopper to
take him back to the Netherlands, or to let him continue the trip and let
immigration in Atlanta deal with the problem. The captain listens to the boy
describing how he's been doing difficult dives all his life, and how
demonstrating the perfection he's developed to the rest of the world in Atlanta
is his only chance to escape from the hardships of his normal life.
The captain
decides to let the boy demonstrate his abilities. If the boy can execute a
perfect dive from the top of the radar mast, he can continue to the Olympics.
So, the radar is turned off, and the boy climbs the hundred feet to the top of
the radar mast. He looks down.
He has never
dived from a ship before. The gentle sway of the ship is magnified by the
height of the radar mast. He didn't expect this. looking down, he sees ...
pool, deck, sea, deck, pool, deck, sea, deck, pool... he jumps! ... and misses!
He crashes right THROUGH the deck! Everyone runs for the stairs to see if he's
OK. There's a splintered hole in the B deck. Even the metal decks of the C, D,
and E decks have been burst. They find the crumpled body crumpled against the
very hull itself, and even that is dented.
Everyone is
astonished when he sits up, dazed, but apparently unhurt. The captain,
horrified and apologetic, rushes forward. "My goodness! I never should
have asked you to try that! Are you OK? " The boy shakes his head and answers:
"That's
OK. I'm used to it. I've been through many HARD SHIPS before."
A botanist
was trying to research some details about a particular kind of fern, so he sent
a request to all his collegues, asking them to send him any information they
had about it.
Unfortunately,
he didn't word his request very well, and all the botanists he'd contacted
thought he was looking for details about any ferns, rather than just the one
species. So within just a few hours of sending it out, his fax machine was
buzzing with piles of useless documents about all kinds of ferns - there were
tree ferns and wood ferns, ostrich ferns and cinnamon ferns... but very few
about the particular type he wanted.
So he sent
another message to everyone:
If it ain't
bracken, don't fax it.
An
enterprising journalist decided to get the scoop of the day by photographing
the fearsome phantom that lived in the spooky old mansion house at the edge of
town.
When he
entered the house, armed with only his camera, the ghost decended upon him,
moaning and wailing and clanking chains.
"I mean
no harm; I just want your photograph," the journalist said bravely.
Pleased at
this chance to make headlines, the ghost posed for a number of shots, and the
happy journalist rushed back to his darkroom and began developing the photos.
Unfortunately,
they turned out to be so underexposed that nothing could be seen in them.
He was
distraught, and went to a local pub to drown his sorrows. Meeting his friends
there, they asked what was wrong. Not wanting to tell the whole story, he
simply explained with a single sentence: ......
"The
spirit was willing, but the flash was weak."
In the days
of old, when Genghis Kahn's men were running over Asia, they set their sights
on further shores. Rather than 'huns', these warriors were known as Kahn's men,
or simply, Kahns. When they had conquered all the way to the water's edge, they
build boats, gathered their loot, and bravely went to sea. By a sad twist of
fate, they encountered an island of lepers, which resulted in most of the crew
being infected. Hastily leaving that island, they set sail again, but by the
time they reached Ireland, there wasn't much left of them. Disembarking on
stubby limbs, they set forth, but were soon set upon by the natives for the
riches they carried.
Rotted away,
but still clever, they hid on the island and awaited rescue, and the locals
never did get their hands on the treasure.
And that's
how the story of the little people got started in Ireland - the leper Kahn's
and their pots of gold.
Cunning
though diseased, the Kahns were never fooled by those who tried to trick them
out of their pots of gold by swapping them for an empty pot - thus the saying:
"You cannot change a leper's pots".
Shortly
after the Korean War, the son of then South Korean President Syngman Rhee was
hired as a Life Magazine correspondent. The younger Rhee was a remarkably kind,
gentle and considerate man, but he had one problem: He loved to drink and
sometimes was gone on a bender for days. On one occasion, Rhee was missing for
three days before someone at the magazine's office finally suggested they look
for him. Other correspondents and even the police were involved in the search.
Finally, about two weeks later, a policeman walked into a tavern, looked at the
man slumped over the bar and cried, "Ah, Sweet Mr. Rhee of Life, at last
I've found you."
William
Penn, the founder and mayor of Philadelphia, had two aunts - Hattie and Sophia
- who were skilled in the baking arts. One day, "Big Bill" was
petitioned by the citizens of his town because the three bakeries in the town
had, during the Revolution, raised the price of pies to the point that only the
rich could afford them.
Not wanting
to challenge the bakeries directly, he turned to his aunts and asked their
advice. But when they had heard the story, the two old ladies were so incensed
over the situation that they offered to bake 100 pies themselves, and sell them
for 2 cents lower that any of the bakeries were charging.
It was a
roaring success. Their pies sold out quickly, and very soon they had managed to
bring down the price of all kinds of pastry in Philadelphia.
In fact,
even to this very day, their acheivements are remembered as the remarkable Pie
rates of Penn's aunts.
A debt
collector knocked on the door of a country family, that made their living
weaving cloth.
"Is
Jack home?" he asked the woman who answered the door.
"Im
sorry," the woman replied. "Jack's gone for cotton."
A few weeks
later the collector tried again. "Is Jack here today?"
Once again
the answer was "No, sir, I'm afraid he has gone for cotton."
When he
returned for the third time and Jack was still nowhere to be seen, he
complained, "I suppose Jack is gone for cotton again?"
"No,"
the woman answered solemnly, "Jack died yesterday."
Suspicious
that he was being avoided, the collector decided to wait a week and investigate
the cemetery himself. But sure enough, there was poor Jack's tombstone, with
this inscription: ...
"Gone,
But Not for Cotton."
A cargo ship
is traveling from the US to Europe with a cargo of various consumer goods. The
journey is proceeding on schedule, until suddenly, right in the middle of the
Atlantic, they encounter a bad squall and some of the containers at the rear of
the ship get washed overboard.
Quite aside
from the loss of the cargo, this is also a problem because the ship's load is
now severely unbalanced and in these rough seas they can't take on enough
ballast to compensate.
The captain
orders his crew to move all the forward containers of beauty soap aft, which
should get them back to level. The crew get to work, and when they're done the
bo'sun reports in.
"Did
you move it all?" asks the captain.
"Aye,
sir, we've left no Tone unsterned."
A fellow
received a mouse for his birthday and he loved it so much that he never parted
with it. He took this mouse everywhere, to work, to parties, to the opera...
One day, a good friend of his died and so he went to pay his respects.
Naturally, he took the mouse, which was perched on his shoulder.
On his way
home, he suddenly realized that the mouse was gone! He retraced all his moves
for the day and realised that the last place he had seen the mouse was at the
funeral. He raced back across town, but it was too late. The mouse must have
jumped off his shoulder while he was sitting in the hearse. He spoke to the
funeral directors, but they couldn't find it: it had completely vanished.
The man was
filled with grief as he remembered an old adage his mother had told him time
and time again as a kid:
Never lock a
gift mouse in the hearse.
Sheila loved
her two dogs, but they were very disobedient, so she decided to take them to
obedience classes.
The class
was run by an old man. He was very strict but seemed to get good results, and
after several months of regular attendance things had improved to such a degree
that Sheila was even considering entering her pets into a dog show.
But then one
day, disaster struck. Sheila had to baby-sit for her young nephew. All evening,
the boy teased the dogs, and by the end of the day both dogs were back to their
old habits - all the hard work and training was undone in a single evening; it
was as if they had never been to class at all.
Worst of
all, it was only a few weeks before the dog show, and she had already
registered her entry. What could she do?
In
desperation, Sheila decided to call a friend of hers who also had two dogs of
the same type that did behave themselves, and asked to borrow them. Her friend
agreed, and at the next class Sheila arrived as usual with two well-behaved
dogs.
But the old
man wasn't fooled for a moment - as soon as he saw them he knew they were the
wrong dogs, so he called Sheila over to the side of the class.
"It was
a good try," he said, once he'd heard the story, "but you should have
realised that you can't trick an old teach with new dogs."
It's little
known that William Shakespeare, as well as writing, also enjoyed a good game of
rubgy in his spare time.
So, the team
is assembled for practice one Saturday afternoon. It's the middle of winter,
and even for England, it's cold and it's wet. The pitch is a muddy swamp, and
the players decide that they simply can't play in these conditions.
So they go
to the club-house for a bit, but they very quickly get bored. And then one of
the players has a bright idea: Why don't we all go over to William's house?
William Shakespeare is doubtful, but they persuade him, and pretty soon, the
whole squad is relaxing in his living room.
Well,
they're rugby players, and true to the stereotype, they all quickly get drunk,
and of course, they come up with the even better idea - of having their rugby
practice in the house ("well, it's a big house, after all"). William
has also been drinking, so he's easy to persuade this time, and after moving
some furniture out of the way, they get down to the serious business of
practicing their sport.
Meanwhile,
not far away, the King has just had a great idea for a play, and dispatches a
messenger to summon his favorite playwrite.
Well, the
messenger arrives at the house, and he can hear this enormous commotion from
inside, with shouting and crashes, and he thinks that William Shakespeare must
be getting attacked. He braces himself, and crashes through the front door...
and lands directly in the path of two groups of large hairy rugby players.
The
messenger is pinned to the floor for a while, and he can't move. He does manage
to free himself momentarily, before getting trapped again, up against a wall.
Finally, he escapes, and returns to the palace as quickly as his mangled body
will allow.
The king
takes one look at him, and gasps. "What happened to you?" he asks.
"I
think," said the messenger, "that I got caught between a ruck and a
bard's place."
Once there
was a circus that was without a doubt the best circus in the world because it
boasted the best lion tamer in the world. He was spectacular, the lions would
do whatever he said, the high point of course was that he would stick his head
in a lion's mouth.
When the
circus started losing money the owner started selling off animals and equipment
to help meet expenses. He called the Lion Tamer into his office.
"I'd
really like to keep you on, because you keep the circus going," the owner
said. "But I've had to sell your lions because they cost too much to feed.
Still, you're good, and we need you, so if you can come up with an act with
what we have left, you've got a job."
"Well,
I do need a job," the Lion Tamer said. "What animals do you have
left?"
"Well,
to tell you the truth," the owner said, "the only animal I have left
is my faithful old Bassett hound. I'd never sell him!"
"I'll
take him," said the Tamer.
So the Lion
Tamer worked with the Bassett hound and taught him the entire lion act. The dog
caught on right away, but there was a problem: no way was the Lion Tamer's head
going to fit into the dog's mouth.
"My
foot will fit," the Lion Tamer said, so he tried it, and sure enough the
dog picked that up too.
Opening
night, the Lion Tamer did the act with the Bassett hound, and the crowd loved
it. They'd never seen anything like it before. At the end of the act, when the
Lion Tamer put his foot into the dog's mouth, the crowd went wild.
"Encore,
encore!" the crowd yelled.
Well, the
Lion Tamer hadn't thought of an encore before, so he thought to himself,
"If one foot is good, two is better."
So he stuck
his other foot into the dog's mouth. Well, the two feet together are almost as
big as the dog's head, so the dog was choking and gasping, and finally out of
self-preservation, he clamped his jaws shut, biting off the Lion Tamer's legs
at mid-calf.
And the
moral of this story....?
Don't put
all your legs in one Bassett.
A man was
walking along a road one day, when he came to a bridge across a river. Sitting
on a large chair right in the middle of the path was a man, dressed in a suit
of armour, and holding an enormous sword.
"None
Shall Pass!" shouted the knight, in an intimidating voice.
"Why
not?" asked the traveller.
"You
must tell me why you want to cross the bridge."
"I want
to get to the other side."
"Not
good enough!" yelled the knight, brandishing his weaponry threateningly.
"Errr,
I want to get to the next town," said the man.
"Sorry,
but you must give me a good reason, or I can't let you cross."
"Okay.
The reason I'm travelling is because I'm visiting my brother, who's sick."
"Hmmm...,"
said the knight. He pondered on this for a moment, before saying: "okay.
That's good enough. I'll let you pass." The knight stood up, and let the
man pass.
When the man
arrived at his brother's house, he told the story of the knight at the bridge.
"I can't understand why he made such a fuss about it," he said.
"It's
obvious," said his brother, ......... "It only stands to
reason."
There was
once a handyman who had a dog named Mace. Mace was a great dog except he had
one weird habit: he liked to eat grass - not just a little bit, but in
quantities that would make a lawnmower blush. And nothing, it seemed, could
cure him of it.
One day, the
handyman lost his wrench in the tall grass while he was working outside. He
looked and looked, but it was nowhere to be found. As it was getting dark, he
gave up for the night and decided to look the next morning.
When he
awoke, he went outside, and saw that his dog had eaten the grass all in the
area, around where he had been working, and his wrench now lay in plain sight,
glinting in the sun.
Going out to
get his wrench, he called the dog over to him and said, "A grazing Mace,
how sweet the hound, that saved a wrench for me."
A squad car
driver was covering a quiet beat out in the sticks when he was amazed to find a
former lieutenant on the police force covering the beat.
He stopped
the car and asked, "Why, Mike, this wouldn't be your new beat out here in
the sticks, would it?"
"That
it is," Mike replied grimly, "ever since I arrested the judge on his
way to the masquerade ball."
"You
mean you pinched his honor?" asked Pat.
"How
was I to know that his convict suit was only a costume?" demanded Mike.
"Well,"
mused Pat, "'tis life and there's a lesson in this somewhere."
"That
there is," replied Mike.
"Tis
wise never to book a judge by his cover."
David was a
chef for a large catering company. He enjoyed his work with the other chefs,
but often liked to relax by going to the zoo. He particularly enjoyed the
three-toed sloth which absolutely fascinated him. He would stand and watch it
for hours, just hanging there, ever so infrequently making just the tiniest
movement. He found it incredibly relaxing. So relaxing, in fact, that when a
friend from the catering company complained that work was stressing him out he
suggested they go to the zoo to watch the sloth and relax. This caught on among
the chefs, and soon more and more of them would go to watch the sloth on
weekends and days off.
Eventually
David organised a day out for the company at the zoo, and all the chefs were
standing in front of the sloth's area, watching it and relaxing. Suddenly, with
no warning, the sloth lost its grip on the vine from which it had been hanging
- it hit the ground heavily and rolled down a shallow slope into the moat at
the edge of its pen, and to the surprise and horror of the gathered chefs the
water began to bubble and steam furiously, until the sloth was well and truly
roasted!
David
suddenly realised what had happened.
"Oh,
no!" he shouted, "We should have known better! Everyone knows too
many cooks boil the sloth!"
A Russian
scientist and a scientist from the Czech Republic had spent their lives
studying the grizzly bear. Each year they petitioned their respective
governments to allow them to go to Yellowstone to study the bears. Finally
their request was granted, and they immediately flew to the park.
They
reported to the ranger station but the chief ranger told them that it was the
grizzly mating season and it was too dangerous to go out and study the animals.
They pleaded that this was their only chance, and finally the ranger relented.
The Russian
and the Czech were given portable phones and told to report in every day. For
several days they called in, and then nothing was heard from the two
scientists. The rangers mounted a search party and found the camp completely
ravaged, with no sign of the missing men. Following the trails of a male and a
female bear, they finally caught up with the female.
Fearing an
international incident, they decided they must kill the animal to find out if
she had eaten the scientist. They killed the female and opened the stomach to
find the remains of the Russian.
One ranger
turned to the other and said, "You know what this means, don't you?"
The other
ranger responded......
"I
guess it means the Czech's in the male."
Once, long
ago, a king summoned all his provincial rulers to his castle. He was in a
rather beligerent mood, and wanted to scare them into giving him extra taxes.
Unknown to
him, they met in secret on the way, and decided that they should agree to pay
the extra, but they would at first pretend to refuse, so they could try to
bargain down the actual amount extra they would have to pay.
They arrived
at the king's castle, and gathered in the audence chamber. The king made his
demands, and as agreed, they started to refuse.
Unfortunately,
they hadn't realised just how beligerent the king's mood was: as soon as they
started to refuse, he got angry, and ordered his guards to kill them on the
spot.
More than
half of them were slain before they even realised what was happening, and the
others had to do some very quick grovelling to survive.
After
everything had settled down, those who remained explained to the king their
plan, and the king was filled with remorse for his hasty actions.
The moral of
the story?
Don't
hatchet your counts before they chicken.
A group of
astronaughts are on the moon. They've been mining the surface, and have
discovered that it really is made of cheese.
One
particular area of cheese that they're quite interested in is a large vein of
brie, and they've already been there twice, and collected samples to be
returned to mission control.
All of a
sudden, the radio crackles into life: "Mission control to cheese-base-one
- we need you to get a third load of that brie!"
But the
astronaughts are unhappy with the idea. They try to come up with all sorts of
excuses why they shouldn't dig any more...
"It'll
spoil the environment if we take too much. We don't want to leave this place
looking bad.
"After
all - have you ever seen such a site in your life as brie mined thrice?"
Kenny Rogers
and his entourage are aboard their tourbus on their way to a concert in Denver,
when they get a flat tire. The mechanic jumps off the bus to fix the flat, but
because they're already behind schedule and in a hurry, he neglects to double
check that the lug nuts are properly tightened down.
Shortly
thereafter, as the bus goes around a curve on a twisty mountain highway, the
entire wheel comes off. The bus veers off the road, and plunges down the side
of the mountain.
Everybody on
board is killed, except for a young "roadie" who happened to be lying
in his bunk, and was somewhat shielded from the crash by his mattress.
The kid is
lying in his hospital bed being interviewed by the press, and one reporter asks
him if Kenny Rogers had said any last words?
"Yes,"
said the young man, "he did." As the bus went over the edge I could
hear Mr. Rogers singing......
"You
picked a fine time to leave me, loose wheel!!!"
There is a
traditional sport in Ireland, called "Cliff Shoving". It involves a
small local rodent called a rarie (which is similar to a lemming) being pushed
off a cliff.
The aim of
the game is to see who can get the poor animal to go over the edge with the
least amount of effort.
Of course,
these days people aren't so keen on blood sports, and the animal rights people
wouldn't like it either, so it's changed from a cliff into a small shallow pit
that the rodents are pushed into.
This in turn
has made it much easier to get the animals to jump, to the point where, with a
properly trained rarie, it takes barely a touch to get it into the pit.
The sport is
mostly based only in Ireland, but they do get the occasional overseas
competitor. Recently, they had a fellow come all the way from Australia to take
part.
During a
break, he mentioned that he'd had a eighteen hour journey to get there.
"But I
guess I always knew it would be a long flight," he said. "After all,
it's a long way to tip a rarie."
A man who
lived in a block of apartments thought it was raining and put his head out the
window to check. As he did so a glass eye fell into his hand. He looked up to
see where it came from in time to see a young woman looking down.
"Is
this yours?" he asked.
She said,
"Yes, could you bring it up?" and the man agreed. On arrival she was
profuse in her thanks and offered the man a drink. As she was very attractive
he agreed.
Shortly
afterwards she said, "I'm about to have dinner. There's plenty; would you
like to join me?"
He readily
accepted her offer and both enjoyed a lovely meal. As the evening was drawing
to a close the lady said, "I've had a marvelous evening. Would you like to
stay the night?"
The man
hesitated then said, "Do you act like this with every man you meet?"
"No,"
she replied, "Only those who catch my eye."
A man rushes
into a vetenarian practice, carrying the limp and lifeless body of his beloved
pet gopher.
The vet
rushes him back to an examination room and has him put the gopher down on the
examination table.
The vet
examines the still, limp body and after a few moments, tells the man that his
pet, regrettably is dead.
The man,
clearly upset and not willing to accept the obvious, demands a second opinion.
So the vet goes into the back room and comes out with a Black Labrador.
The dog
sniffs the body, walks from head to tail, and finally looks at the vet and
barks. The vet looks at the man and says, "I'm sorry, but the Lab thinks
he's is dead too."
The man is
still unwilling to accept that his beloved pet is dead. So the vet brings in a
Siamese cat and puts the cat down next to the gopher's body.
The Siamese sniffs
the body, walks from head to tail, poking and sniffing the gopher's body and
finally looks at the vet and meows. The vet looks at the man and says,
"I'm sorry, but the Siamese thinks he's dead, too."
The man,
finally resigned to the diagnosis, thanks the vet and asks how much he owes.
The vet answers, "$650.00."
"$650.00
just to tell me that he's dead?!" exclaims the man.
"Well,"
the vet replies, "I would only have charged you $50.00 for my initial
diagnosis. The additional $600.00 was for the Cat Scan and the Lab Tests."
Here is a
story about a famous food critic's recent visit to Europe last summer. He had a
delightful time sampling the cusine in Italy, France and Germany, but he made
the mistake of stopping off in London on the way home.Needless to say, he found
English food bland and overcooked. However, one day he had a great meal of fish
& chips at a London pub. He asked the manager of the pub if he could have
the recipe for the fish and chips.
The manager
confessed that he bought his fish and chips from a nearby monestary, and so our
critic would have to get the recipe from one of the brothers.
So he
quickly ran down the street to the monestary and knocked on the door. When one
of the brothers came to the door, he asked him if he were the "Fish
Friar."
The brother
repiled, "No, I'm the Chip Monk."
A man is
driving along a highway and sees a rabbit jump out across the middle of the
road. He swerves to avoid hitting it, but unfortunately the rabbit jumps right
in front of the car.The driver, a sensitive man as well as an animal lover,
pulls over and gets out to see what has become of the rabbit. Much to his
dismay, the rabbit is dead.
The driver
feels so awful that he begins to cry. Another car arrives on the scene, and the
driver sees the man crying on the side of the road and pulls over. She steps
out of the car and asks man what's wrong.
"I feel
terrible," he explains, "I accidentally hit this rabbit and killed
it."
The newcomer
says, "Don't worry." She runs to her car and pulls out a spray can.
She walks over to the limp, dead rabbit, bends down, and sprays the contents
onto the rabbit.
The rabbit
jumps up, waves its paw at the two of them and hops off down the road. Ten feet
away the rabbit stops, turns around and waves again, he hops down the road
another 10 feet, turns and waves, hops another ten feet,turns and waves, and
repeats this again and again and again, until he hops out of sight.
The man is
astonished. He runs over to the woman and demands, "What is in that can?
What did you spray on that rabbit?"
The woman
turns the can around so that the man can read the label. It says....
"Hair
restorer.......adds permanent wave."
There once
was a man who decided he had to visit Australia once in his life. He read up on
everything he could find, visited all the Australian web sites on the Internet
and saved his money so he could make this once in a lifetime vacation.
The day
finally came when it all came together and he was ready to leave. He boarded
the plane and some hours later stepped off the plane at Sidney International.
Australia at last!
Unfortunately,
on his first day sightseeing, he began to get a bad headache. Thinking it was
probably just jet lag he took two aspirin and continued his tour. The headache
didn't go away, however, so he asked the tour guide where was the best place to
go for treatment. "Sir, you'll want to go to the emergency room at the
Mercy Hospital", the guide told him, "Its not far from here."
At the
hospital, the doctor suggested he stay there overnight for observation and he
agreed. He was assigned a room and a nun who was a nurse came in to see him.
When he told her about his headache, she asked him if he had tried their Koala
tea. "Its made from the fur of the Koala bear and has great healing
properties", she said. He said he was willing to try anything at that
point and asked that she bring him a cup.
Presently,
the nun came back in with a cup of liquid. He looked in the cup and saw it had
a mass of hair in the bottom. Feeling rather nausous, he said he didn't believe
he could drink the tea with all that hair in the cup. "Couldn't you strain
it out or something", he asked.
The nun was
indignant. She said, "Sir, I'll have you know the Koala tea of Mercy is
not strained!"
A British
bush pilot is flying on a job through the Australian outback when he encounters
engine problems and is forced to make a crash landing. He survives, but is
found unconscious and is taken to a local mission hospital which is run by the
Sisters of Mercy. Upon awakening, he is greeted by the mother superior who
advises him where he is and asks if there is anything he wants. He replies,
"I am a bit thirsty...could I have a cup of tea?" to which the mother
superior says, "I'm terribly sorry, but our supply truck is late and we
are out of regular tea. However, we do have a sort of native drink that is
brewed from koala hides." the pilot thinks awhile and replies, "Well,
I just have to have my cuppa...you can bring me that, thanks."
The nun
leaves and returns in a few minutes with a steaming cup. The pilot takes the
cup gratefully, but upon taking a sip, instantly gags and spits it out.
"This tea is filled with hair!", he exclaims disgustedly.
Oh, I'm
dreadfully sorry! The nun replies, "I forgot to tell you: The koala tea of
mercy is not strained!"
There was a
man in England who was considered by all to be the world's foremost authority
on tea. One day he was chatting with a friend of his thathad just returned from
a trip to Australia. This friend told him that he had heard of a tea brewed in
a small town in the Outback named Mercy. Theconnoisseur scoffed at him, stating
that no tea came out of the Outback, because there was no way to grow it.
"Oh, it
doesn't come from leaves," remarked his friend, "they brew it from
Koala fur."
This so
intrigued the expert that he booked a flight to Australia the next day. After
his arrival, he hired a guide to take him deep into the Outback tothe town of
Mercy. Once in town, he found the only pub, and ordered a cup of the mysterious
beverage.
The cup was
placed before him. He spent many moments noting the color, the aroma, and the
viscosity. He took a small sip. It was good! He then followedwith a big
mouthful, and was suddenly gagging and spitting, clutching at his mouth.
"What
is this?" he exclaimed, holding up a handful of what appeared to be short,
coarse threads.
"Oh,
that's Koala fur," replied the bartender.
"You
mean to tell me that you don't strain out the fur?" asked the expert,
incredulous.
"Of
course not," replied the bartender, "The Koala tea of Mercy is never
strained!"
A young boy
had a job bagging groceries at a supermarket. One day the store decided to
install a machine for squeezing fresh orange juice.
The young
lad was most intrigued by this machine, and he asked if he could be allowed to
work the machine. The manager refused, but the youngster couldn't understand
why not.
The store
manager explained it to him: "Sorry, kid, but baggers can't be
juicers."
The latest
celebrity on television is a Russian, going by the name of Rudolph, who has
taken the weather forecasting world by storm. He seems to have an incredible
and uncanny knack of not just getting the forecast correct, but being amazingly
accurate, sometimes even being able to tell where the rain will fall down to
the nearest mile or so.
His fame was
enhanced by his personality - being Russian, he had some unique turns of
phrase. He was also a fanatical communist.
One day, one
of his younger fans was watching with his parents. Young James turned to his
mother, and asked "How does he manage to get the weather forecast so
good?"
His mother
thought for a bit and said, "I'm not sure, but one thing's for certain -
Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear."
Once upon a
time, there was a snail who was sick and tired of his reputation for being so
slow. He decided to get some fast wheels to make up the difference. After
shopping around a while, he decided that the Datson 240-Z was the car to get.
So the snail
goes to the nearest Datsun dealer and says he wants to buy the 240-Z, but he
wants it repainted '240-S'.
The dealer
asks, "Why 'S'?"
The snail
replies, "'S' stands for snail. I want everybody who sees me roaring past
to know who's driving."
Well, the
dealer doesn't want to lose the unique opportunity to sell a car to a snail, so
he agrees to have the car repainted for a small fee.
The snail
gets his new car and spent the rest of his days roaring happily down the
highway at top speed. And whenever anyone would see him zooming by, they'd say
"Wow! Look at that S-car go!"
There once
was a Chinese cabinet maker who kept his precious woods in a shed behind his
shop. One day he noticed that some of his wood was missing and on the floor of
the shed there were the prints of small bare feet in the sawdust.
The next
night the cabinet maker hid in the shed and waited. Toward morning he heard a
noise. Lighting his lantern, he saw a strange sight; a bear on stilts holding
some wood. The ends of the stilts were carved into the shape of small feet.
The cabinet
maker of course shouted, "STOP, boy foot bear with teaks of Chan!"
Recently,
the Minnesota Orchestra was doing Beethoven's Ninth under the baton of Milton
Katims.....
Now at this
point, you must understand two things: Firstly, there's a quite long segment in
this symphony where the bass violins don't have a thing to do. Not a single
note for page after page. Secondly, there is a night club right across the
street from the Minnesota's Orchestra Hall, rather favored by local musicians.
It had been
decided that during this performance, once the bass players had played their
parts in the opening of the Ninth, they were to quietly lay down their
instruments and leave the stage, rather than sit on their stools looking and
feeling dumb for twenty minutes. Well, once they got backstage, someone
suggested that they trot across the street and drink a few brews.
After they
had downed the first couple rounds, one said, "Shouldn't we be getting
back? It'd be awfully embarrassing if we were late."
Another,
presumably the one who suggested this excursion in the first place, replied,
"Oh, I anticipated we could use a little more time, so I tied a string
around the last pages of the conductor's score. When he gets down to there,
Milton's going to have to slow the tempo way down while he waves the baton with
one hand and fumbles with the string with the other."
So they had
another round, and finally returned to the Opera house, a little tipsy by now.
However, as they came back on stage, one look at their conductor's face told
them they were in serious trouble. Katims was furious! And why not? After
all...
It was the
bottom of the Ninth, the basses were loaded, and the score was tied.
The big
chess tournament was taking place at the Plaza in New York. After the first
day's competition, many of the winners were sitting around in the foyer of the
hotel talking about their matches and bragging about their wonderful play.
After a few drinks they started getting louder and louder until finally, the
desk clerk couldn't take any more and kicked them out.
The next
morning the Manager called the clerk into his office and told him there had
been many complaints about his being so rude to the hotel guests....instead of
kicking them out, he should have just asked them to be less noisy. The clerk
responded, "I'm sorry, but if there's one thing I can't stand, it's chess
nuts boasting in an open foyer."
For years
and years, a doctor had been having a drink after work at the same bar. Every
time he walked in the door, the barman would mix his favourite drink, a
hazelnut daiquiri.One day, the bartender didn't have any hazelnuts in the bar.
Wondering what to do, he spied some hickory nuts and tried to make the drink
from them instead.The doctor came in at his regular time, took a sip of the
drink and exclaimed "This isn't a hazelnut daiquiri!"
"No,"
said the bartender, "it's a hickory daiquiri, doc."
I was
Abilene's sheriff. I think I was the youngest sheriff in the territories. One
afternoon, while I was playing 5-card stud in my favorite saloon, I happened to
glance out towards the street.
I saw a rope
ride into town.
Right away I
knew it was trouble. Nobody likes ropes. This one had been riding all day. It
looked as dry, and it probably smelled as bad, as the old straw broom that
One-Eye Judd has been using in his stable for the last five years. The rope
headed straight for the saloon where I was sitting, obviously hankering for
good whiskey to wash away the trail dust. I could see how the rope moved like a
cobra, maybe 30 feet coiled in the dust and ready to lash out. I checked my
shootin' iron under the table, trying not to be obvious.
The rope
used its "head" to push the saloon's swinging door open. It snaked
its way across the floor to the bar, pulled itself up onto a stool and called
for a drink. The bartender was a new fellow from Larame. He glared at the rope
and said, "Are you a rope?" When the rope answered, "Yes",
the bartender said, "Get out. We don't serve ropes in here." When the
rope didn't move, the bartender carefully reached over the bar, took hold of
the rope's main coil with one hand, while holding its "head" in a
death grip with the other hand, walked to the door, and threw all 35 feet of
the noisome thing out onto the street.
A couple of
the men smiled, but nothing else happened. I relaxed and picked up my cards
again. Apparently there wasn't going to be trouble. But then I heard someone
bellow, "That stinkin' rope is heading for the other saloon! Let's get
him!"
I looked at
my cards -- 4 jacks. Why does trouble always wait till I draw a winner? I
hurried out into the street, just as the rope entered the other saloon. I could
see how tired the rope was, really dragging itself. I felt sorry for the poor
thing, but I didn't let the townfolk see this in my face. One man can't fight
an entire town, if you take my meaning.
In less time
than it takes to load a six-gun, the rope came flying out the saloon door and
landed in a heap in the middle of the street. Well, it was a rope. What else
did it expect?
I knew this
affair wasn't over. So I stood in the shadows and waited. After a few minutes,
I saw two other ropes slinking down the far side of the street. They crossed
over and began to talk with the newcomer. I could hear most of what they said.
"What
happened to you?" asked one of the local ropes.
The newcomer
described what had happened in each saloon.
"Oh,"
said third rope, "obviously you don't know the trick. Watch me."
The third
rope unravelled both of its ends until they looked like paint brushes. Then the
rope looped and twisted itself into a tangled mess. I wondered how it could
keep track of itself like that, or even know where its ends were; but it
scooted handily across the street and under the swinging door of the nearest
saloon and up onto a barstool inside. I was impressed. Can you slide 100 feet
on your stomach with your arms and legs twisted together? I guess ropes have
the instinct for it. I watched as the bartender approached and asked
suspiciously, "Are you a rope?"
The rope
replied, "Nope, I'm afraid not."
A doctor was
just starting out on his own, when he found that he just had too much work to
do. Now this man was brilliant, and had particularly good peple skills. Once he
got a patient, they would just not see anyone else.
It seems
that this man had been reading recently about the advances in cloning, and
decided to have a clone made of himself to do his work.
For years it
worked perfectly. His clone took care of all his patients, and he got to relax.
However, the clone began to have some personality disorders. it would insult
patients, and treat them very badly. It got soo bad that business was
suffering. The doctor decided that he just had to get rid of the clone or loose
his business.
So......one
morning on their morning jog.... they jogged right over a bridge. The doctor
pushed the clone over to his death.
The doctor
again began seeing his old patients, and things were going exceptionally well,
until a fisherman "caught" the dead clone body in the river. When the
police found that the real doctor was still, in fact, alive, and that this was
a clone, they didn't know just what to charge the doctor for doing wrong. After
much deliberation, they decided to charge him for... Making an obscene clone
fall.
A scientist
was successful in cloning himself, and was asked to speak at a national
convention of cloning scientists. The meeting room was located on the 45th
floor of a New York skyscraper.
"My
fellow scientists," he began. But before he could utter another word, the
clone jumped up and shouted, "he's a *&^^%*@)&!".
Apologizing
for the interruption, the scientist began again, "My fellow
scientists,". Again the clone sprang to his feet and yelled, "this
dumb *%@(&+*! couldn't produce a copy on a Xerox. He's a fraudulent
*$3%$#*#+=!".
Incensed,
the scientist rushed to the clone, grabbed him, and threw him out of the
window.
The crowd
gasped and security rushed into the room. A short while later New York's finest
arrived and the events that had transpired were explained to them.
The police
chief said to the scientist, "We are going to have to arrest you."
The
scientist replied, "For what? You can't arrest me for killing a
clone!". The attending scientists nodded in agreement.
"Well!"
retorted the police chief. He thought for a moment and ordered the scientist
held for "Making an obscene clone fall..."
One hot and
dry day in the Wild West, this dog walks into a saloon and says, "Gimme a
beer". Evidently this type of thing wasn't too rare 'round those parts
because the bartender said, "I'm sorry, but we don't serve dogs
here." The dog then took out a silver dollar, dropped it on the bar, and
said, "Look, I got money, and I want a beer." This scene had the
potential to get ugly. The bartender, getting a little irate, said one more
time, "We do not serve dogs here. Please leave." The dog growled, so
the bartender pulled out a gun and shot the dog in the foot! The dog yelped,
and ran out the door.
The next
day, the swinging bar doors were tossed open and in walks the dog that had been
in the saloon the day before. He was dressed all in black. A black cowboy hat,
a black vest, three black cowboy boots and one black bandage. The dog looks
around, waits for the talking to quiet down, and says, "I'm lookin' fer
the man who shot my paw."
Once upon a
time there was a large and prosperous Kingdom run by a wise and powerful King.
Then disaster struck in the form of a strange plague, which caused people to
sicken and die horribly within a few weeks. The population of the Kingdom was
declining rapidly. All the physicians in the land were called to the Kingdom,
but none of them had any idea of what to do about this new disease.
The oldest
of the physicians said that he had once heard that many years ago, when his
grandfather was a boy, the Kingdom had been struck by just such a mysterious
sickness. The pestilence had been ended with a magic potion prepared by an old
sorceress. It was said that she was still alive, but her home was in the middle
of the Dark Forest.
"The
Dark Forest!" everyone gasped. They all knew that the Dark Forest was the
most dangerous place in the region. Perhaps the most dangerous place in the
entire world, for in the Dark Forest lived the Yellow Fingers, which grabbed
any traveler who entered and would squeeze him to death. But no one could come
up with another plan to save the Kingdom, so it was decided that someone had to
defy the Yellow Fingers and find the ancient sorceress in the middle of the
Dark Forest.
The King
called his bravest Knight and explained the situation. Without hesitation, the
brave Knight marched off into the forest ... and was never heard from again.
The King
then called his second bravest Knight. The second bravest Knight hesitated for
a moment before going into the fatal forest. But once he went in ... and was
never heard from again.
So the King
called his third and fourth bravest Knights, who took a bit more persuading.
None of them ever returned from the forest. Finally the remaining Knights, who
were not very brave at all, went into hiding.
The King was
reduced to a state of despair. Then one of the King's young pages, came to him
and offered to go into the Dark Forest and get the magic potion from the old
sorceress.
The King was
touched by the boy's foolish bravery, but he said, "Don't you realize that
the Dark Forest is the home of the Yellow Fingers, and that many of my bravest
Knights have perished there?"
The boy said
that he knew all about it, but he was still quite sure that he would be able to
accomplish his mission. In the end the King reluctantly agreed to let the page
go. He was so desperate that he didn't know what else to do.
The Page
walked off into the Dark Forest, and the King confidently expected never to see
him again. Therefore the King was not merely surprised but very nearly
hysterical with joy when, two days later, the Page came walking out of the Dark
Forest clutching the formula for the magic potion that would save the Kingdom.
"How
did you do it?" cried the King
The page
just smiled, and said, "From now on let your Pages do the walking through
the Yellow Fingers."
I remember
it was about that time that Jim Sloane used to work in our Finance Branch. Now
that was a character. He was, in my opinion, an unusual individual who was
interested in some rather exotic subjects. The most unusual thing about him was
his pet, (rumoured to have been captured somewhere in Africa) which reminded me
of a piece of granite with eyes, which he called Teddy. Teddy typically just
sat there, doing nothing, but sometimes it lifted a lower edge and sucked in
powdered sugar. That was all it ate. No one ever saw it move, but every once in
a while it wasn't where people thought it was. There was a theory that it moved
when no one was looking.
Bob Laverty,
a Management Services employee, constantly ridiculed poor Teddy, saying mean
and nasty things about it. Laverty's pet looked like an iguana, and to me, at
least, was the ugliest looking thing that you would ever want to see. He called
this 'iguana' by the unlikely name of Dolly.
Well, one
day Sloane had had enough of these comments, and challenged Laverty to a race.
His Teddy against Laverty's Dolly. And to make things a bit more interesting,
he suggested a rather hefty wager on the outcome, which Laverty quickly agreed
to. Soon everyone got into the act. Every one of them bet on Dolly. At least it
moved. Sloane covered it all. He'd been saving his salary for some time (for
some exotic project, no doubt) and put every penny of it on Teddy.
The race
course was set in the basement garage. At one end, two bowls were set out, one
with powdered sugar for Teddy, and another with ground meat for Dolly. Dolly
started off at once and began moving along the floor slowly toward the meat.
All in attendance cheered it on.
Teddy just
sat there without budging.
"Sugar,
Teddy. Sugar." said Sloane, pointing. Teddy did not move. It looked more
like a rock than ever, but Sloane did not seem concerned.
Finally,
when Dolly had 'ran' half-way across the garage, Sloane said casually to Teddy,
"If you don't get out there, Teddy, I'm going to get a hammer and chip you
into pebbles."
That was
when people realized how truly different Teddy was. Sloane had no sooner made
his threat when Teddy just disappeared from it's place and re-appeared smack on
top of the sugar.
Sloane won,
of course, and he counted his winnings slowly and luxuriously.
Laverty said
bitterly, "You knew the damn thing would do that."
"No, I
didn't," said Sloane, "but I knew he would win. It was a sure
thing."
"How
come ?", said Laverty.
"It's
an old saying everyone knows. Sloane's Teddy wins the race."
Many years
ago a traveler came to the ancient land of Day. As he traveled through the
country side he saw many fields and pastures. The people working the land all
appeared to be peasants, living in abject poverty. However all he passed seemed
to be in good spirits. Asking a peasant how he could be so happy while living
in such an impoverished state the man told him that this land was ruled by a
huge, intelligent and benevolent bear called King Mu. He continued to inform the
traveler that while he was poor now he could, when he thought he was ready,
participate in a kind of rite of passage and become a knight.
Asking what
was involved in this rite the peasant replied,"You know the usual stuff,
drinking till dawn, reciting sports scores from five years past, telling tall
tales about women he had never met, discussing the advantages of the designated
hitter rule, and many other things of similar difficulty." The traveler
agreed that would be a grueling test indeed. "Tell me peasant, what are
the rewards for passing such a test?" asked the traveler.
"Why,
sir, when you are made a knight you receive all the goodies. You get things
like a Royal Express card. No limit on those things you know sir. You can move
to a nice Condo on the beach, and maybe even get a trophy wife to replace the
one you got now."
"Amazing!",
said the traveler ,"This I would have to see to believe."
"There's
a test going on now in the capital." said the peasant.
So the
traveler moved on down the road to the capital to see for himself if all was as
the peasant had said. Passing through the gates and into the beautiful capital
city he saw that the Festival of Testing was indeed in progress. In the center
of the town, on a raised ornate throne sat King Mu, who was indeed a bear and
looked that if he stood , would be at least twelve feet tall. Moving through
the crowd the traveler saw three men standing before the throne. Two of the men
looked to be in fine shape, clear of eye, with their collars buttoned down and wearing
a neck scarf in a power color. Both had at some point in the competition won
the honorary Rolex sun dial, which they wore on their wrists. The third man
however, looked horrible. His eyes were blood shot, and as he stood holding his
head, he looked like he was not to steady on his feet.
Rising from
his throne the king approached the two men and placing a huge paw on each of
their shoulders the king announced, " These two men I make knights and
grant unto them all the privileges they deserve." Turning to the third man
the king said, "This man did not however pass the test." With that he
raised a paw and much to the traveler's horror struck the man down, killing him
on the spot. At that point a king's aide brought forth a great shaggy dog , at
least four foot at the shoulder, and presented it to the grief stricken family.
Turing in shock and confusion, the traveler asked the man standing next to
explain what had just transpired.
"Why,
everyone knows," said the man, "there's nothing better, after a bad
Day's knight, than the dog of the bear that hit you."
The armies
of Alexander the Great were greatly feared in their day, but there was one
problem that they had that almost defeated them. Alexander could not get his
people to staff meetings on time. He always held the meetings at 6:00PM each
day after the day's battle was done, but frequently his generals either forgot
or let the time slip up on them and missed the staff meeting. This angered
Alexander very much, to say the least!
So he called
in his research guys and set up a project to come up with a method of
determining the time at 6:00PM each day. There were no clocks in those days, at
least none that could be carried around. (The smallest was a giant water clock)
"Find a way my staff can determine the hour of the day, or at least when
it gets to be 6 o'clock!", he said, "Cost is no object."
A study was
instituted and, with several brain-storming sessions, came up with the
following idea. In a land some distance away, there grew a bush whose berries
contained a type of dye that changed color at 6 each evening. They found that
by dyeing strips of cloth and issuing them to the generals, they could see when
it was 6 by the color change, and could get to the meetings on time. Needless
to say this pleased Alexander very much.
It was then
turned over to the marketing group to come up with a name of this new invention
as Alexander saw definite market potential in the strips. "It can be worn
on the wrist and can be easily watched for the color change", said one
junior executive. "I therefore propose to call it the wrist watch."
This name was immediately hooted down as being too bland and obvious. Another
man suggested it be worn in the navel and could be observed by looking down,
therefore it should called the Navel Observatory. This idea was rejected out of
hand as being too weird and too technical sounding for the general public.
Finally the
senior vice president, who up to now had been silent, spoke and rendered his
decision. "We shall call it a Timeband, and in honor of the Great
Alexander, it shall be known as 'Alexander's Rag Timeband!'
A panda bear
escapes from the zoo and is forced to live on his own. It turns out that he
really enjoys eating in nice resturants, but of course being a panda with no
job and no money he is unable to pay his bill. Being, also, an exceptionally
intelegent panda he devises a scheme that lets him eat in any resturant he
wishes.
One day he
decides to try a particularly nice resturant but when he asks the maitre d' for
a table he's told, "I've hear about you. Your the panda that never pays
for his meal. We won't seat you here." So, the panda leaves the resturant
and sits on a bench across the street from the resturant and contemplates his empty
tummy.
Some while
later the panda sees the maitre d' leave the resturant. The panda goes back and
asks the assistant maitre d' for a table, and is seated by the assistant who
has never heard about the panda's tricks. The panda has a wonderfull meal. (At
this point you may "shaggy dog" this story as much as you like, or
the audience will bear. Give details about the wonderfull meal the panda
enjoys)
Just as he
finshes desert the panda is aproched by the maitre d' who has returned to
discover the assistant maitre d's mistake. When the maitre d' demands payment
the panda pulls a gun, shoots the maitre d' and starts to leave. The assistant
maitre d' stops the panda and asks, "Where do you think you are
going?"
"I'm
leaving." "You can't leave!" "Sure I can." "No
you can't!"
At which
point the panda produces the encyclopedia voulme "P", opens it and
tells the assistant, "Read this."
The
assistant maitre d' reads aloud: "Panda, an animal indigenous to China
that EATS, SHOOTS and LEAVES."
===========================================================================
This section
is much more like the original Shaggy Dog Stories - not a pun at the end, but
rather just... an unsatisfying
===========================================================================
It was a
sweltering August day in 1937 when the Cohen brothers entered the posh
Dearborn, Michigan, offices of Henry Ford, the car maker. "Mr. Ford,"
announced Norman Cohen, the eldest of the three. "We have a remarkable
invention that will revolutionize the automobile industry."
Ford looked
skeptical, but their threat to offer it to the competition kept his interest
piqued. "We would like to demonstrate it to you in person." After a
little cajoling, they brought Mr. Ford outside to a black automobile parked in
front of the building.
Hyman Cohen,
the middle brother, opened the door of the car. "Please step inside, Mr.
Ford."
"What!"
shouted the tycoon, "Are you crazy? It must be two hundred degrees in that
car!"
"It
is," smiled the youngest brother, Maxwell, "but sit down and push the
white button."
Intrigued,
Ford pushed the button. All of a sudden, a whoosh of freezing air started
blowing from vents all around the car. Within seconds, the automobile was not
only comfortable, but quite cool.
"This
is amazing!" exclaimed Ford. "How much do you want for the
patent?"
Norman spoke
up, "The price is one million dollars." Then he paused. "And
there is something else: The name 'Cohen Brothers Air-Conditioning' must be
stamped right next to the Ford logo."
"Money
is no problem," retorted Ford, "but no way will I have a Jewish name
next to my logo on my cars!"
They haggled
back and forth for a while and finally they settled. Five million dollars, but
the Cohens' name would be left off. However, the first names of the Cohen
brothers would be forever emblazoned upon the console of every Ford air
conditioning system.
And that is
why, even today, whenever you enter a Ford vehicle, you will see those three
names clearly printed on the air conditioning control panel:
NORM HI MAX
This was
originally a story by Isaac Asimov. I don't remember the content exactly, but
I'll reconstruct it as best I can.
Ray
Silverstein was the human attache to Qikblamefar, an alien ambassador from the
planet Sortibakenstrete. Since the name is rather long and unwieldy for a human
tongue, aliens from Sortibakenstrete were called Foys. After a long and
distinguished career as a diplomat, Qikblamefar had to retire due to declining
health. He wished to return to the Foy world to die, but no space ship was fast
enough to make it in time.
Foys had
certain physical differences from humans, the chief being that Foys had five
hearts. A doctor named Maude Ramirez specialized in alien diseases, and
determined that Qikblamefar's illness resulted from his hearts enlarging. She
had wanted to obtain Qikblamefar's hearts for study after he passed, but the
Foy ambassador refused.
Ray knew the
reason for Qikblamefar's refusal stemmed from a Foy taboo, and looked for ways
to change the ambassador's mind. He learned that Foys had a strong belief in
the power of music, stemming from a time when Foy warriors fought far from
home. Their comrades would form a choir around the mortally wounded, and the
power of their song would return the soldier back to his home. If Ray could
arrange for a grand musical send-off, maybe Qikblamefar would consent to Dr.
Ramirez harvesting his hearts.
Ray
contacted Harold Fortenheimer, leader of the world famous Fortenheimer Choir.
The singing group had performed in front of audiences on all seven continents
and were beloved universally. Upon hearing Ray's story, Harold Fortenheimer
said he would be glad to arrange for the choir to perform at Qikblamefar's
send-off.
So, the
Fortenheimer Choir, Dr. Ramirez, and other notables were put on notice to
attend Qikblamefar's death, which was due to happen any moment now. However,
Ray still had not formally received permission from the Foy ambassador, and
waited patiently for Qikblamefar to come to a decision.
The call
finally came in. Ray saw Qikblamefar on the monitor screen in his deathbed,
weak and barely able to speak. However, he had made his decision. "Give my
big hearts to Maude, Ray. Dismember me to Harold's Choir. And tell all the Foys
on Sortibakenstrete that I will soon be there."
A man walks
into a nightclub with a beautiful girl on his arm
The show
begins and the comedian comes out for his first show of the evening
The comedian
says "A man walks into a nightclub with a beautiful girl on his arm
The show
begins and the comedian comes out for his second show of the evening.
The show
begins and the comedian says "A man walks into a nightclub with a beautiful
girl on his arm"
Just then a
man in the front row stands up and says "I think I've heard this
before"
The comedian
says "Well maybe you caught my first show of the evening"
The man says
"No, I just walked in here"
The comedian
says "Well it was a guy looked just like you walked in with a beautiful
girl on his arm could have been your twin brother"
The man says
"My twin brother's dead"
The comedian
says "What is this, a wake?"
The man says
"I don't have to stand for this"
And he
stands up and he walks outside
And the
comedian says "Are you out there? I can hear you breathing."
The man says
"I'm holding my breath"
The comedian
says "Well I'm holding you wife"
Just then
the man says "That's not my wife"
And he walks
back into the nightclub with another beautiful girl on his arm
"Who's
that lady I'm seeing you with" the comedian says
The man says
"This is my wife. That other lady is my dead twin brother's wife
You can take
her if you want her"
And the
comedian says "Not unless you say please"
Just then, a
man walks into a nightclub with a tatoo of a beautiful girl on his arm eating
elbow macaroni.
The comedian
says "Is that girl from Italy?"
The man says
"No just hungry"
Just then a
man walks into the nightclub, he comes riding into the nightclub, on a pony,
with a feather stuck into his hat
"What
do you call that?" the comedian asks
"An
entrance" the man says "But forget that"
Just give me
a beer and give my pony a jockey"
The
bartender says "I think that pony's had enough already"
"Well
make it a short jockey" the man says
"And
while you're at it give that lady's lawyer some briefs"
The lady
stands up and says "I can defend myself, your Honor"
And the
lawyer says "But I'll defend her honor, your Honor"
The judge
says "Well on her or off her, make up your mind"
The comic
says "Definitely on her, that's the best offer I've had all day"
"Well
take it or leave it" says the Judge
"Couldn't
we just drop it?" says the comedian
He says
"You better drop leaflets before you bomb"
And the
comedian says "I'm already bombing"
He says
"Maybe it's your material"
He says
"You don't think it fits?"
He says
"Well it could be let out a little"
The comedian
says "How much do you think it will cost me?"
He says
"It'll cost you an arm and a leg"
The comic
says "Well listen, could you put it on the cuff?"
The tailor
says "I'll tell you what I'll do. We'll forget the leg and I'll just
charge you an arm"
And a
beautiful arm it is
"OK"
says the comedian and the tailor cuts off the comedian's arm and gives him the
suit
The tailor
calls his girlfriend and asks her to go out on the town with him in order to
celebrate
He calls on
his girlfriend and gives her the beautiful arm as a gift
She wears it
around her neck just like a stole and they go out on the town
The man
walks into a nightclub with a beautiful arm on his girl
The show
begins and the one-armed comedian comes out for his last show of the evening.
He does his
act, and the audience stands up and gives him a hand
During the
days when Native Americans were being forcibly and systematically removed from
their ancestral lands, a small band of Cherokee had managed to elude the U.S.
cavalry by using secret refuges in the Appalachian mountains. The only
advantages they had were a particularly brutal winter that made navigating the
mountains impossible for anyone without an intimate knowledge of them, and the
brilliant leadership of their cunning war chief, Black Wolf.
Now Black
Wolf was getting on in years, and he had never married or had any offspring. He
knew the time was coming for him to name a successor, and his intended
candidate was his nephew: Falling Rocks, so called because of the way he would
fall on the enemy with the fury of a rock slide. However, the other members of
the tribe would think that he favored Falling Rocks due to his kinship, rather
than merit. Some in the tribe would rather he name another brave, Tall Bear, to
be the new war chief. Tall Bear was perhaps the mightiest warrior in the tribe,
but he was brash and impulsive-- he had no mind for strategy, and won his
battles on brute force alone. Falling Rocks, however, was a tactician and
leader. He knew when to fight, when to flee, and when to try diplomacy. Black
Wolf knew that the future of his tribe depended on more than merely being a
skilled warrior.
To reconcile
the two sides, Black Wolf announced that the new war chief would be decided by
a test, and invited all who were interested to participate. Seven braves met
him atop a rocky peak, just as the spring thaw began to open the mountain routes.
"This
is a test to determine who shall be the new war chief," Black Wolf
addressed the assembled warriors, "You will walk in the direction of the
setting sun, and return. Whoever travels the farthest shall be my successor.
This test has no end-- only you can decide when you have traveled far
enough."
The braves
pack their belongings and depart the camp that evening, with Tall Bear and
Falling Rocks racing to be the first through the pass. Despite being rivals,
there was no animosity between them. They had fought alongside each other many
times, and each felt that the other pushed him to his fullest potential.
After a few
days, one of the braves returned. "I saw a great village of the whites,
with more people than I ever knew lived on this world. It was heavily patrolled
by soldiers and I felt I could go no further."
A few weeks
pass, and another brave returns to the camp. "I visited vast lakes so
large I thought they were part of the ocean, but the water was fresh, not
salty. I encountered a great thunderous waterfall of tremendous power. At this
point, I felt I could go no further."
A month
passes, and the third brave makes his way back. "I saw a mighty river,
larger than any I had seen before. I could find no way to cross its muddy
waters, and was forced to turn back."
Another
month passes until another brave returns from his quest. "I made it to
vast plains, with no trees in sight. Mighty horned beasts grazed in herds
beyond counting. Their hooves shook the ground like thunder. I dared not risk
being lost to the anger of these creatures, and had to turn back.
Months pass,
and the fifth brave returns to the tribe. "On my travels I discovered
another range of mountains. Unlike ours, these were sharp and jagged, piercing
the sky with their height. I thought that this must be the backbone of the
world, but I could find no way to cross them, and could go no further.
Still,
neither Falling Rocks nor Tall Bear had returned, and the tribe had been
severely weakened without them. They could not access their hunting grounds,
which were now overrun with whites, and winter was once again threatening to
seize the mountains in ice. The elders of the tribe were pressuring Black Wolf
to name his successor now, because they could not survive waiting around for
anyone else to return. Black Wolf held out for as long as he could, every day
sitting on the peak where he had issued his challenge, watching the pass for
the return of his nephew. Finally, the rest of the tribe had had enough, and
demanded that he name the brave who most recently returned as war chief. Just
then, a lone figure staggered through the mountain pass, wrapped in buffalo
skins and holding some sort of strange shell. It was Tall Bear.
"I
walked until I encountered another ocean. It was similar to ours, but I could
tell it was also quite different. The life that inhabits it was unlike what we
catch in our waters. However, I could find no way to go any further."
Black Wolf
knew that he couldn't wait for Falling Rocks any longer, and named Tall Bear
the new war chief, but every day he would go to the peak and watch the pass for
his nephew. Eventually the cold winter air struck him with an illness that he
knew he would not survive. Calling Tall Bear and the other braves to him, he
told them that he still knew in his heart that Falling Rocks was still alive,
and it was his dying wish to have the tribe always keep vigil for when he
returns. Tall Bear and the other braves swore to never stop waiting for their
brother in battle.
And that's
why, to this day, when traveling in those mountains, you can still see signs
that say "Watch for Falling Rocks"
A traveler
books to stay at a famed European hotel renowned for its ability to cater to
the most difficult and rare desires of its clientele. His bags are taken from
his limousine, he is shown through a lavish lobby with original Rubens oils
adorning the walls, through gold trimmed hallways to his room. The bellhop
shows him in and asks if he needs anything.
"Yes,"
he replies. "A blonde, blue-eyed virgin girl between the ages of 14 and 15
1/2, four pieces of braided - not wound! - cotton cord of precisely eight feet
in length, a cat-o-nine tails, and a Hungarian coachman with a dark complexion.
And please be quick about it, as I've had a long journey and need to
relax."
The bellhop
clicks his heels smartly says, "Right away sir!", and leaves with an
unhurried, but efficient air of purpose.
Ten minutes
later the phone rings. It's the hotel concierge. "The braided cotton cord
sir - would you prefer Egyptian or Persian cotton?"
"Egyptian,
of course."
"As I
suspected sir. Thank you."
Ten minutes
later there is a knock at the door. It's the hotel manager, and behind him are
the bellhop and the hotel concierge. All are wearing expressions of seriousness
and concern.
The manager
indicates the concierge with a nod and says, "Sir, we have been working to
fill your request. As you know, we pride ourselves on our ability to provide
any and all comforts to our guests and will stop at nothing to assure the best
of service. That being said, I feel obliged to update you on our progress.
"We have
located a young girl of the description you provided. She is fairly blonde and
blue eyed, but I must tell you very few ladies in our fair city reach the age
of 14 with their virginity intact. However, I assure you we have expended
considerable effort in procuring one of the rarer ones. I can report further
success in obtaining the cotton cord you require - I have personally ensured it
is not only braided and of the finest quality Egyptian cotton, but never before
touched by human hands. We have similarly availed ourselves of resources
sufficient to lay hands upon a cat-o-nine tails made by the very leather maker
who provides equestrian necessities to the royal heads of Europe.
"However,
I am DEVASTATED to report that we have as yet been unable to locate a Hungarian
coachman with a dark complexion. We can, however, offer a Romanian coachman who
otherwise meets or exceeds your specifications in every way. Bearing in mind
that sir will of course receive no bill of any sort, owing to the unprecedented
and inexcusable excursion from our usual service, I wonder if this would be a
satisfactory substitution?"
"Never
mind. Just send up coffee and today's paper."
There's a
shaggy dog joke I'm known for because it takes me around 50 minutes to tell it
to whatever poor soul happened to request that I tell it (and other mad fools
request that the dupes request I tell it).
It changes
every time, but the basic crux is this:
There's this
conductor whose wife wanted him to make some more money, so she requests that
he steal a penny for every dime that he makes. Paycheck comes and he steals a
penny for every dime that he makes. Wife says "great! We're going to buy
some new furniture!"
Well next
week comes and the wife says "I want you to steal not one penny but two
pennies for every dime that you make."
So his
paycheck comes and he steals not one penny but two pennies for every dime that
he makes. Wife says "Great! we're going to buy a new car!"
Well next
week comes and the wife says "I want you to steal not one penny not two
pennies but three pennies for every dime that you make."
So his
paycheck comes and he steals not one penny not two pennies but three pennies
for every dime that he makes. Wife says "Great! we're going to buy a new
house!"
And on and on
it goes. Up to "Not one penny not two pennies not three pennies not four
pennies not five pennies not six pennies not seven pennies not eight pennies
not nine pennies but ten pennies for every dime that you make"
At that
point the police come and arrest him for stealing not one penny not two pennies
not three pennies not four pennies not five pennies not six pennies not seven
pennies not eight pennies not nine pennies but ten pennies for every dime that
he makes.
He goes
before the circuit judge who asks him "You stand accused of stealing not
one penny not two pennies not three pennies not four pennies not five pennies
not six pennies not seven pennies not eight pennies not nine pennies but ten
pennies for every dime that you make," how do you plead?
"Guilty
your honor!"
"Then
we sentence you to death by electrocution!"
To which
they strap him down and throw the switch and then they realize that HE'S STILL
ALIVE!
So they take
before the district judge, same thing as before. Then the state supreme court
panel. The Supreme Court. The UN. Just find as many ways to elongate the joke
and throw in the phrase "Not one penny not two pennies not three pennies
not four pennies not five pennies not six pennies not seven pennies not eight
pennies not nine pennies but ten pennies for every dime that you make"
By the end
of the joke they've blacked out the entire three state area surrounding him
trying to throw 1.21 jigawatts of electricity through him in order to get him
to die. But nothing seems to work!
Why? Why
someone asks? How can this possibly be?
"Because,"
he says simply "I'm a conductor."
Joe, a
teenaged boy, gets his weekly allowance from his mother. He decides to go out
and treat himself to some ice cream. Half an hour later, he returns.
"So
Joe, what did you do?" asks his mother. Joe replies "I went out to
the ice cream parlor and bought myself an ice cream." "Oh, that's
nice", says his mother. "What flavor did you get?" Joe says
"Strawberry." Joe's mother explodes, "Strawberry?!? Why, you
little liar! Just wait until your father gets home!"
A few hours
later, Joe's father comes home. The mother says "You would not believe
what Joe told me. He needs to be punished." Joe's father says "OK,
calm down. Joe, what happened?"
Joe says
"Mom gave me my allowance, so I went out to the ice cream parlor and
bought myself an ice cream. Then I came home, and mom asked me what flavor of
ice cream I got. I told her, and she got really mad!"
Dad says
"Really? That's pretty unreasonable. Joe, you didn't do anything wrong.
You are not in trouble. By the way, what flavor did you get?"
"Strawberry." "You little son of a bitch! How dare you lie to
me? I'm so mad, I'm calling the cops!"
A few
minutes later, the cops arrive. "OK, son, tell us your side of the story."
Joe says
"Mom gave me my allowance, so I went out to the ice cream parlor and
bought myself an ice cream. Then I came home, and mom asked me what flavor of
ice cream I got. I told her, and she got really mad! So when dad got home, I
told him what happened, and he got so mad that he called you! Are you going to
arrest me?"
The cops
glared at Joe's parents. "Sir, 911 is for serious emergencies only. We
don't have time to investigate petty complaints like these. Please do not waste
out time like this. Another call like this and we'll have to write you a
ticket."
"So I'm
not in trouble?" asks Joe.
"No,
son, you're not in trouble. By the way, what flavor ice cream did you
get?"
"Strawberry."
"On the
ground, NOW! Hands behind your head! Move it, scumbag!" The cops procede
to taser the shit out of Joe.
Months
later, Joe is in court. The judge asks "What is this case about?" The
defense attorney begins "Your honor, my client is completely innocent. He
got his allowance from his mother, proceded to the ice cream parlor, had ice
cream, and returned home. Any reasonable person would conclude that this is a
perfectly reasonable course of action for any young man. And yet, he was
arrested, beaten, and tased by the arresting officers. We ask that all charges
be dropped. Furthermore, we ask that charges be brought against the arresting
officers."
The judge
asks the prosecution for his opening statement. "Your honor, the
prosecution has no case. We request that the case be dismissed."
The judge
addresses Joe. "Son, the state apologizes for any inconvenience that this
misunderstanding has caused. You are free to go."
Joe smiles,
gets up, and turns to leave the courthouse. The judge says "You're a good
boy. I like ice cream too. By the way, what flavor did you get." Joe mumbles
"Strawberry." "Boy, I could have you hanged for that! But rope
is too good for you. I never, ever, want to see you again. You are to leave
town, and never return. You disgust me. If you ever step foot in this town
again, I will personally see to it that you get the death penalty."
Completely
dejected, Joe leaves the courthouse. As he is crossing the street, he gets run
over by a reckless driver and killed.
The moral of
the story?
Look both
ways before you cross the street.
The bell ringer
at the cathedral had retired after many years of service, so the priest placed
an ad in the paper for a new bell ringer. The next day, a man came to apply for
the job, but the priest couldn't help noticing that he had no arms.
"How
are you going to ring the bell with no arms?" he asked. "Let me show
you, the man replied."
So they
trudged up the many stair to the bell tower. The man stood against the wall,
got a running start and ran at full speed toward the largest bell. When he
struck the bell with his face, it made the most beautiful sound that the priest
had ever heard.
Then the man
ran at another bell and with the first bell still resonating, the harmony was
magnificent. He ran again at a third bell, but this time he slipped and instead
of hitting the bell he skidded out the window and fell to his death on the
ground below.
The priest
ran downstairs and outside, where a crowd had formed around the dead man's
body. "Who is this?" the crowd asked. The priest replied,
"Well,
I don't know his name, but his face rings a bell."
About a week
later, another man came to see the priest. He looked just like the first man,
including the fact that he had no arms.
"I
understand that my twin brother was here last week and met an unfortunate
demise," the man said. "It was always his ambition to be a bell
ringer at a great cathedral, and I appreciate you giving him a chance."
"Since
he was unable to fulfill his lifetime goal, I insist that you let me have the
job in his honor," said the man.
"Well,"
said the priest, "You can try if you wish, but I must warn you it's very
dangerous. That's how your brother died."
But the man
insisted, and they went up to the bell tower. This time, the armless man was
able to ring five of the bells and the resulting melody enchanted everyone who
heard it. But as he was attempting the sixth bell, he too slipped and fell to
his death.
Again, the
priest rushed downstairs, and again the crowd asked, "Who is this
man?"
This time,
the priest replied,
"He
never told me his name, but he's a dead ringer for his brother."
A man is
driving down the road and his car breaks down near a monastery.
He goes to
the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, "My car broke down. Do you
think I could stay the night?"
The monks
graciously accept him, feed him dinner, and even fix his car. As the man tries
to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. A sound unlike anything he's ever
heard before. The Sirens that nearly seduced Odysseus into crashing his ship
comes to his mind. He doesn't sleep that night.
He tosses
and turns trying to figure out what could possibly be making such a seductive
sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say,
"We can't tell you. You're not a monk." Distraught, the man is forced
to leave.
Years later,
after never being able to forget that sound, the man goes back to the monastery
and pleads for the answer again.
The monks
reply, "We can't tell you. You're not a monk."
The man
says, "If the only way I can find out what is making that beautiful sound
is to become a monk, then please, make me a monk."
The monks
reply, "You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass
there are and the exact number of grains of sand. When you find these answers,
you will have become a monk."
The man sets
about his task.
After years
of searching he returns as a gray-haired old man and knocks on the door of the
monastery. A monk answers. He is taken before a gathering of all the monks.
"In my
quest to find what makes that beautiful sound, I travelled the earth and have
found what you asked for: By design, the world is in a state of perpetual
change. Only God knows what you ask. All a man can know is himself, and only
then if he is honest and reflective and willing to strip away self
deception."
The monks reply,
"Congratulations. You have become a monk. We shall now show you the way to
the mystery of the sacred sound."
The monks
lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, "The sound is
beyond that door."
The monks
give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door
made of stone. The man is given the key to the stone door and he opens it, only
to find a door made of ruby. And so it went that he needed keys to doors of
emerald, pearl, silver, topaz, and amethyst and diamond.
Finally,
they come to a door made of solid gold. The sound has become very clear and
definite. The monks say, "This is the last key to the last door."
The man is
apprehensive to no end. His life's wish is behind that door!
With
trembling hands, he unlocks the door, turns the knob, and slowly pushes the
door open. Falling to his knees, he is utterly amazed to discover the source of
that haunting and seductive sound...
But, of
course, I can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk.
During the
Civil War, there was an old man who worked in a textile mill down south. It was
his job to take the big bolts of raw cloth and dye them whatever color was
needed for the day's production.
One day, he
was called into the Foreman's office to work on a special project.
In the
office, he met with a Confederate General who told him "We have a
train-load full of Union Blue uniforms that we captured. We need you to set
these out in the sun and fade them until they're Confederate Gray."
The old man
says "Nope. I ain't gonna do it."
The General
says "Now look. A lot of our soldiers are dressed in rags. It will really
help them if you just take these blue uniforms, and fade them until they're
gray."
The old man
says "Nope. I ain't gonna do it."
The General
says "OK ... you can either fade these uniforms, and help the war effort
that way. Or else, I'll have you drafted right here on the spot, and we'll send
you up to the front lines and you can fight in a battle, and help the
Confederacy win the war that way. Now, what's it going to be? Are you going to
fade these blue uniforms?
The old man
says "Nope. I ain't gonna do it."
So the
General calls over to of his aides, they take the old man, and send him off to
fight at the front lines.
The Moral of
This Story:
OLD DYERS
NEVER FADE, THEY JUST SOLDIER AWAY.
One night,
as the clock strikes 12, a single shot rings out, shattering the silence of the
sleeping suburbs of Hamilton.
The next day
Thomas Anderson is called into the work at the police station. He is a older
man, skinny arms, a pot belly, and that speech impediment that makes his Rs
sound like Ws. The arthritis in his left hip keeps him up at night and also
keeps him to his desk; his days of patrolling the streets are long passed. The
reason he is still working at the station, 4 days a week, is his uncanny
ability to spot a perp. Two minutes in a room with a suspect and Thomas knows
if he did the crime.
This morning
is normally Thomas's day off. As he steps inside the sheriff pulls him aside.
"Thank
you for coming in Thomas, we're at our wits end!" He passes Thomas a case
file.
"We
responded to a call-in of gunfire at Mrs Orme 's house. She's the multimillion
dollar lotto winner from last weekend. When we got to her house we found the body
of William who, it turns out, worked at the store that she checked her ticket
at. He had been shot in the chest. "Mrs Orme was dead on the floor in
front of him with the gun still in her hand. Her skull had been caved in from
behind."
"And
the gun was weally hews?" askes Thomas "No other fingerpwints on
it?"
"Nope,
just hers. We checked the boy's phone to see who he had contacted last night.
Five of his friends are in the lockup but none of them are giving us anything.
Can you do your thing? The rest of the station has given up and we need to find
out who the second murderer is, so we can stop them and retrieve the
money".
"I'll
talk to the wagermuffins. We'll see which one makes a wuckus."
Thomas takes
a seat in the interrogation room, the one way mirror at his back, and waits for
the first suspect to be sent in.
As the door
opens a small blond girl is ushered in by another cop, who seats her in front
of Thomas.
"What's
your name, giwl?" he asks.
"Jannet"
"Why
did William call you last night?"
"He
wanted me to cover his shift for him. He said he had come down with a bad flu
and would be sick for maybe a week."
"Did he
pull this sowt of thing often?"
"No, he
would never lie about that sort of thing. I've covered shifts for Will before
but he never pretended to be sick."
"That's
enough" Thomas says. "Thank you for your time" and the girl is
escorted away.
The next
suspect is an older man who looks like he has been questioned in the past.
"I told them already, I didn't do it" he says.
"I
know, I know" Thomas says. "We just need to know why you didn't pick
up your winging phone last night when William called you, and if he left a
voicemail."
"Yeah
he left a message. Said he was leaving town, parents were fighting or
something, and was going to have to cancel his lessons. I teach Will jiu jitsu
on thursday nights."
"That's
vewy helpful" sighs Thomas. "We are gwateful fow youw time."
As soon as
the older man leaves a big fat ginger guy pushes into the room, yelling.
"Get
your hands off me! I know my rights! If you touch me again you'll see me in
court!"
"Wow,
wow, no need to cause a wuckus! Tell me your name, son." Thomas shoos the
offending cop out of the room.
"Dillan.
And I want a lawyer!"
"I
don't think that will be necessawy, Dillan. You werw going out for birthday
dwinks with Will this Fwiday, cowwect?"
"Yeah"
Dillan says begrudgingly.
"He
called you to cancel the pawty?"
"How
did you know that?"
"Will
was cancelling evewything" says Thomas. "Youw fwee to go."
Thomas turns
to look at the mirror behind him. "I guess if it's not this next watbag
we'w out of luck and I got up eawly fow nothing."
A slender,
dark haired boy is led into the room. "What's his name?" Thomas asks
the policeman escorting him.
"Raymond
Angus" the cop says as he seats the boy at the table. "Goes by
Ray"
"Weally!?"
Thomas jumps up. "This is the guy!"
At this Ray
busts into tears. "I didn't want to!" he cries. "Will made me.
It's not my fault!"
The cop
takes the weeping boy away and the sheriff comes in, looking astounded.
"How did
you know Thomas? All you know was his name, he hardly even sat down!"
"Well"
says Thomas, knowingly. "Whewe thewe's a Will thews a Way"
There was
once a young boy who sat in a pre-algebra class behind Stacy Kildlan and her
friends. One day, after they all completed their work, he decided to read his
book. While reading he overheard the conversation Stacy was having with her
friends. He heard mention of a “purple feather,” and being curious he asked
what that was. He leaned in and whispered into their circle.
“What’s the
‘purple feather’?” The three of them whipped their heads back in surprise, and
his teacher jumped out of her seat and put on the face of a mad man.
“What did
you just say?” The teacher was trembling. Our young boy didn’t think anything
of it, and repeated himself.
“I asked
what them what the ‘purple feather’ that they’re talking about is.”
His teacher
rushed across the room and picked him up by his collar, and told him to go to
the principal’s office, and that she never wanted to see his face again. As you
could imagine, our little boy was confused, even a little mad, but mostly
confused. He made his way down into the main office and sat down in the couch
in front of the big man’s office.
“What are
you here for?” asked Mrs. Emery (the guidance counselor).
“Well, I was
sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her
friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My
teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never
wanted to see me again.”
Mrs. Emery
threw up on her desk and ran out of the office. Our young boy was left more
confused and more angry, but still mostly confused. The principal poked his
head out of his door and waved for our boy to enter. The principal was a burly
man with a large goatee but with a soft smile. He asked what our boy was there
for.
“Well, I was
sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her
friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My
teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never
wanted to see me again. So I came down here and Mrs. Emery asked why I was here
so I told her and she threw up on her desk and ran out of the office, and now I’m
here.” The principal was brought back, and he took a moment to think. In this
moment his face grew red and he slammed his fists down onto his desk. He was
furious.
“I don’t
know where you went wrong, boy, but I want you out of my office and out of my
school, and I never want to see you here again.” And so our boy walked outside
and sat down on the steps in front of the school. 15 minutes later his mom came
to pick him up in their red Suburban. He opened the front door and sat down
with an ashamed look on his face. His mom asked him what happened today.
“Well, I was
sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her
friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My
teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never
wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance
counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and
ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why
I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come
back to the school, and here I am.” His mother gave him a quick glance and then
slapped him across the face. She then broke down into tears. The 12 minute car
ride home felt like years.
Once they
got home our boy went up to his room where he stayed until his father came
home. His father came home to a mostly quiet house, with the exception of a
crying mother in her room. Our boy was lying on his bed when he heard the soft
taps of his father’s work boots making their way up the stairs. He knocked on
the door and then walked in.
“What
happened today, bud? Did you get into a fight or something? Mom wouldn’t tell
me.” Our young boy was afraid to speak.
“Well, I was
sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her
friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My
teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never
wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance
counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and
ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why
I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come
back to the school. Then mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so I
told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way home.
So I went to my room and here I am.”
His father
put his hands to his face and started a soft cry. He could only manage a small
whisper before he left.
“I failed as
a father.”
A few hours
later, at around 12:45, our young boy packed his backpack with clothes and a
few books and jumped out the window. He decided that he was to run away; he
didn’t know what else to do.
The night
was cold and the streets were empty, give or take a car here and there. He
followed the main road into town where he planned to buy a bus ticket to the
furthest city. This planned was foiled when he noticed a cop car with a head
poked out of it.
“What are
you doing out here so late? And where are you headed?”
“I’m running
away from home. I can’t be there anymore.”
“And why is
that?” the cop had a soft smirk on his face.
“Well, I was
sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her
friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My
teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never
wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance
counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and
ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why
I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come
back to the school. Then my mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so
I told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way
home. So I went to my room and waited for my dad to come home. When he came
into my room he asked what happened and why mom was crying. I told him and he
started crying too and he said he was a failure as a father; so I left. And
here I am.”
The cop grew
a face of shock, panic, and excitement. He grabbed the radio and called for a “code
purple purple.”
“Now that’s
quite a story, and quite a reason for you to come downtown with me.” He pulled
out his handcuffs and arrested our young boy.
Seven months
later our young boy (now seven months older) stood in front of Judge Gareth. He
was widely respected for having an open mind and open heart when it came to
punishments. But this was not one of those cases.
“Son, you
have been a good and normal boy up until that fateful day. I need you to guide
me through the events that transpired that day. And do so as detailed and
honestly as possible.” Our young boy didn’t have to think for a second.
“Well, I was
sitting in math class and I was reading my book when this girl Stacy and her
friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I asked what that was. My
teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here and that she never
wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs. Emery the guidance
counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw up on her desk and
ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s office and he asked why
I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and told me to never come
back to the school. Then my mom picked me up and she asked what happened and so
I told her and she slapped me across my face and then cried the entire way
home. So I went to my room and waited for my dad to come home. When he came
into my room he asked what happened and why mom was crying. I told him and he
started crying too and he said he was a failure as a father; so I left. I made
my way to the bus station to buy a bus ticket to the furthest city they
offered. That’s when a cop car stopped by me and asked what I was doing out so
late. I told him and he arrested me; so here I am.”
Judge Gareth
looked at the jury, and then looked at our young boy. He took a moment to
think; and then he took another.
“I hereby
sentence you to 55 years in prison.” And that was that.
54 years and
8 months later (our young boy now 54 years older) he sat in a small cell with
his roommate, Eduardo. They had been cellmates for 37 years now, and they were
best friends. They knew everything about each other, except for the fact that
Eduardo never knew why our young boy (now old man) was sent to prison, and boy
was he curious. See, this was the old man’s last day; he was soon to be a free
man. But Eduardo wanted closure.
“We’ve been
cell mates and best friends for close to 40 years, right? Why haven’t you ever
told me why you were sent here in the first place?”
“I’m
honestly ashamed of it, mostly because I still don’t understand it. But if you
really want to know: I was sitting in math class and I was reading my book when
this girl Stacy and her friends were talking about a ‘purple feather’ so I
asked what that was. My teacher got really mad and me and told me to come here
and that she never wanted to see me again. So I went to the office and Mrs.
Emery the guidance counselor asked why I was there so I told her and she threw
up on her desk and ran out of the office. Then I went into the principal’s
office and he asked why I was there so I told him. He got really mad at me and
told me to never come back to the school. Then my mom picked me up and she
asked what happened and so I told her and she slapped me across my face and
then cried the entire way home. So I went to my room and waited for my dad to
come home. When he came into my room he asked what happened and why mom was
crying. I told him and he started crying too and he said he was a failure as a
father; so I left. I made my way to the bus station to buy a bus ticket to the
furthest city they offered. That’s when a cop car stopped by me and asked what
I was doing out so late. I told him and he arrested me. Seven months later I
went to trial and the judge sentenced me to 55 years. I still don’t know what
the ‘purple feather’ is.”
“Well,”
Eduardo began, “do you want to know what it is?” His eyes lit up with
excitement.
“Yes, yes,
yes of course, please tell me.”
“Okay, you’re
going to go to town, and then you’re going to go down to the corner of Red
Street and Blue Street. On that corner there will be a purple house. The purple
house will have a purple door, purple roof, purple lawn, purple mailbox, purple
windows, and a purple sidewalk in front of it. Inside the purple house will be
a purple coat rack, and on the purple coat rack in the purple house will be a
purple hat; and on the purple hat that’s on the purple coat rack in the purple
house will be a purple feather. There and only there will you find your
answers.” The old man began to laugh and cry as he hugged Eduardo.
Less than an
hour later our old man left the prison and made his way down to town. He was
amazed at all of the new technology around him, but that’s not important. 15
minutes later he found Red Street and he followed it all the way down. He
passed Orange Street, Black Street, and Yellow Street until he finally made it
to Blue Street. There, across the street, was the purple house. He started to
cry once he saw the purple coat rack through the window.
He started
walking across the street when BAM! He was hit by a bus. The moral of the story
is to always look both ways before crossing the street.
A young boy
named Jimmy, 5 years old, is looking through the Sears catalog. His birthday is
coming up and he wants something great this year. Something awesome. So he's
flipping through the catalog, going through all the Lego bricks, toy sets,
whatever right? Well on the very last page of the section, Jimmy spots his
heart's greatest desire. A big red metal trike. You know it. He just can't stop
thinking about it. Day in day out, big red trike. Nap time? Big red trike. He
asks everyone. He asks his mom, his dad, his brother, his sister, his aunts and
uncles, big red trike. Big. Red. Trike. BIG RED TRIKE. and eventually his birthday
comes around... his parents bring him a big box.. sure enough it has a big red
trike in it!! Jimmy is so excited! He rides up the street, down the street,
uptown, downtown, EVERY where. Eventually he gets to this big hill. He looks up
at this monsterous hill and thinks to himself, "I have a big red trike! I
can go anywhere!" So he backs up and gets a little bit of speed, and
strains and strains to produce the necessary torque to get going on the hill.
He gets about quarter the way up sweating like he's hungover, and the trike
snaps into a million pieces flying down the hill with him. Being 5, he
obviously is a little hurt. Eventually he gathers himself and remembers his
sister lives just down the street from this hill.
knock knock
Jimmy's
sister answers the door. She is so surprised to see him, wondering why he's on
this side of town so late, and asks what's the matter. "My trike broke! I
cant get home or anything!" and Jimmy's sister decides, being a nun, to
help her little brother out and have him stay for the night since she hasn't
seen him in ages! So she cooks him supper and prepares the guest room, and
tells him his trike will be fixed in the morning. After supper, Jimmy's awfully
tired so his sister reads him a bedtime story. "Sister, can you do me another
favour?" Jimmy asks, just after the story. "Yes of course Jimmy, what
ever you need!" his sister replies. "Well.. i need a big red apple
and a piece of strig about a foot long." Jimmy's sister is a reserved
type, being in the church she's found no reason to ponder upon other people's
business, so she doesn't ask him why, but obliges with his request, and he's
off to sleep.
He leaves in
the morning on his big red trike. Lets fast forward a few years. Jimmy's
birthday is coming up once more. The big 13. he wants something beefy and
powerful. He's looking through the Sears catalog again, and sorts through the
usual video games and consoles, eventually coming upon the recreation section.
At the end of the section he finds a big red dirtbike. 250cc 4 stroke red
dirtbike with flames on the exhaust. Absolutely beautiful. He becomes obsessed
with the dirtbike and can't stop thinking about it! Big red dirtbike! Day in,
day out. He asks his mother, father, sister, brother, aunts, uncles, he even
considered asking God but he knows it doesn't work like that. So Jimmy's
excited for this big red dirtbike. He wants to be cool and fit in with his
friends.
Well tell ya
what, his birthday comes around and he comes home from school to see his
parents standing there with that very big red dirtbike he wanted. He's
absolutely stunned. He drives it up the trails, down the trails, up town, down
town, left and right and center. Eventually, he's at the same spot he remembers
from age 5. "I've got a fricken dirtbike, of course I can get up there
now!" He thinks, and he revs up, looking fiercely at the hill. He launches
off and starts going up the hill, but about halfway up the bike starts
vibrating and shaking as he slows down, and the more he hits the throttle the
more the bike shakes. Well, it broke into a ton of pieces, and slid down the
hill with him. Jimmy's pretty damn upset, but he decides his sister, a pretty
handy woman indeed, could be helpful to him. He brings all the pieces and
greets her again, gets inside and she tells him "oh why don't you spend
two nights this time, I haven't seen you in a few years. And I won't be able to
have your dirtbike fixed up until then either. It'd be good to catch up."
So Jimmy decides to stay while his sister fixes his dirtbike. Every night,
Jimmy asks her for a big red apple, and a piece of string about a foot long.
His sister, beginning to be a bit curious, gets a little curious at this
strange request. She wonders why he's asking for these items every time he's
there. Being a Christian woman, she decides she will not ask him. It's not her
place nor her business to ask. She brings him the items, fixes his bike, and
two days later he's off on his way riding into the rising sun.
Lets take a
look at a few years in the future. Jimmy's 17 and got his license. He wants a
nice sweet sports car to cruise around in. Several of his friends have cars and
such, he should be able to have something a little better. So he's on the bus
one day, and passes the Audi dealership. He spies with his little eye an Audi
R8 coupe in all red. Brembo calipers (an aftermarket upgrade, meaning it's a
trade in) V10 engine rated at 542 bhp, 400 ft lbs of torque, Audi ventilated
discs, the works. He loves this car. He asks everyone to help, his mother, his
father, his brother, his sister, he wants this Audi R8. Red audi r8. Red audi
r8. Red. Audi. R8.
Well, Jimmy
comes home on his birthday, and sitting in the driveway is none other than the
red audi r8. He's absolutely stellar. He hops in and goes for a drive. He
drives up town, down town, left, right, center, free way, roadway, side
streets, he is absolutely amazed at the car. Eventually he winds up at the same
hill. "My r8 can handle this. 400 foot pounds of torque! Of course!"
So he goes down the road and accellerates with all his might. He gets up to 70
mph and gets headed up the hill. He gets to the top, and finds out he finally
did it. He looks towards the bottom of the hill with a feeling of
accomplishment. Then bolt by bolt, his Audi R8 falls apart into pieces right before
him. Absolutely shocked he rushes all the pieces down the hill to his sister's
once again and asks if she could help. Well, she can, but it'll take some time.
He hasn't been there for many years and it would be good to catch up! It will
take about a week for her to fix it. So he decides to stay there while she
works on it. Once again, every night he asks for a big red apple and a piece of
string about a foot long. Every night, his sister's curiosity gets stronger and
stronger.. until the last night when she finally cracks.
"Jimmy?.."
"Yeah,
what is it sister?"
"Well...
ive just noticed that youve been asking for the two same strange items.. and I
know it's not my place to be nosy, but I'm just curious what you do with the
apple and string?.." his sister asks...
Jimmy looks
up at her straight in the eye, and answers.... "I guess you'll never
know."
Benny was a
nice guy, but sad because he was lonely. He had a good heart and only wanted to
meet, and marry, the right girl. The girl he loved with all his heart had told
him she could never marry him because he did not have, could not grow a beard.
He figured that was never going to happen. He was completely hairless, and
besides he worked as a garbage man, or more politely, a waste technician. Year
after year he labored, made a good life, but was alone and forlorn. One day on
his usual rounds a golden lantern fell at his feet from the trash. He was
surprised, and wiped it clean against his ragged shirtsleeve. A genie appeared!
The genie said Benny was to be granted one wish, but with one condition.
"I want to grow a beard!" he said. Immediately he had a full and
luxurious beard! "One condition," said the genie. "You must
never shave off your beard or you will be immediately turned into ash and
placed in an urn." Benny happily agreed and soon married the now enamored
love of his life. Many joyous years followed, happiness without end, until one
day his wife said, "I think I liked you better without the beard. In fact
I hate it. Shave it off or I want a divorce!" At first Benny's blood ran
cold, but he thought, how could it be possible after all these years the genie
would remember me, how possibly could that 'one condition' still apply. So, not
wanting to lose his beloved wife, he shaved off his beard -- and was
immediately turned into ash and placed in an urn.
Moral: A
Benny shaved is a Benny urned,
Many years
ago, I met a gentleman running a stand under two palm trees on a beach in
Mexico who claimed he had developed a palm tea whose taste rivaled the finest
Chinese tea. We talked for what seemed like hours about how such a thing could
be possible and what was involved with the selection of just the right palm
leaves and the finer points of brewing it to perfection.
Apparently
he had developed this over quite a long period of time and made note of every
success and failure along the way. As he regaled me with his tale of travel and
business by the ocean, I became more and more interested in how one man could
be so devoted to the singular pursuit of tea. He was a college graduate and had
majored in business and minored in Mexican history. He had heard tale of a
native drink made from palm trees, and he wanted to replicate that drink. He
had tried palm fronds from the northern part of Mexico, but their flavor was
too bitter. Along the west coast, they had good flavor but only at certain
times of the year and the described 'harvesting season' for ideal flavor was
too short. In fact, he had tried to import a much easier to harvest variety
from Belize, but the import tariffs were far too high. Finally after searching
far and wide he located a place deep in the Mayan jungle that was exactly the
right climate, exactly the right kind of palm tree, and found trees exactly the
right age growing there! Perfect! Their leaves were perfect for his tea.
Unfortunately, he discovered that he had to roast exactly two leaves in the pan
at a time to get the right flavor, so it was a lot of work to produce a small
amount of tea. The leaves didn't have the right flavor consistency when roasted
individually, he told me. He originally had roasted a pan full of leaves to
save time but it completely ruined the flavor. He had tried to roast three
leaves at once, but the flavor with three was far too bitter.
He contracted
the harvest out to the local population - and in that part of Mexico, the
populace is spread so thin that "local" can be many miles away. Men
would pile onto motorcycles and vans, hanging off any part of the vehicle they
could, and work from sunup to sundown collecting these leaves. Up the trees
they would climb with machetes and cut just the right amount of fronds so that
the tree would still live and produce more. There rose up a rudimentary factory
where women would sort the leaves, roast them two at a time in pans at just the
right temperature for just the right length of time, cut them into tiny pieces,
put them into containers for sale, and label the containers. This tea
entrepreneur even had a whole distribution operation, which was sending tea to
gas stations around the country. They had even exported a small amount to my
home country - most likely to people like myself who had visited his stand -
and was nearly ready to export to other countries around the world! Business
was picking up and his products would sell out immediately when they were
restocked at any store. Now at this point I remembered seeing an empty shelf
space for a mysterious tea at the gas station, so I knew he wasn't kidding
about it being hard to find.
I was quite
skeptical of this tale and the quality of any tea made from any number of palm
fronds at first, having never smelled any part of a palm tree that inspired me
to steep it in a cup of hot water, but then he offered a free sample taste.
Hesitantly, I accepted. Don't drink the water, they always told me, and you
need to make tea with water. I figured this water had been boiled - correctly,
it turned out - and would therefore be safe to drink. Slowly I raised the cup
to my lips and tasted. Stars above, he was speaking the truth! This tea was
beyond comparison. I had to have more. He was not outfitted at this small stand
to sell the tea by the glass, and maybe that was for the best on that
sweltering 88 degree day. I offered to purchase some straight away but alas, he
had sold out of the packaged tea and only had samples and business cards at the
time. Well I took one of those business cards and placed an order on his
surprisingly modern website when I returned home. "Order accepted,"
the confirmation email read! My tea would be on its way soon!
Months
passed and still no shipping confirmation or tea was to be found. I began a
search for information about the situation. First, by emailing his address on
the business card, then searching for news online. All I could ever find out
from repeated inquiries and exhaustively searching the news from that area
(which was no small feat as that area does not have much in the way of a news
outfit, therefore requiring me to collect news from the surrounding areas!) was
that there had been some sort of uprising in the local economy, making exports
and indeed the harvesting and manufacture of this product prohibitively
expensive to the point where the operation had been forced to close due to
unprofitability. I wrote off the idea of ever receiving my order and consigned
myself to regular tea, which never held the same appeal after tasting the
heavenly delights of that one free sample so long ago. All other teas simply
tasted flat and boring in comparison. I feared that I had ruined myself of the
enjoyment of tea forever and began to resent ever walking past that stand, ever
stopping, ever tasting the sample, ever debating how the two leaves could
possibly be different from one or three. I never should have placed that order.
What was I thinking? Ordering from some small operation in the jungle, how
silly it all sounded!
Last year,
however, an unexpected email came. The labor issues had been resolved and they
were back to work on the tea! He did not promise to fulfill any of the past
orders that had been placed and never delivered, but I didn't care, I wanted
more of that tea. It's been a while but it seems that the resumption of
shipment to my country is expected in time for the holiday season! Late
November, end of December at the latest, he estimated in this email! Oh, how
excited I was to receive that email. I, perhaps naively, placed a new order for
this tea. I may never receive it but it wasn't a large sum of money lost in
that case. I can still hope. I have no desire for the usual holiday gifts and
I've been singularly obsessed with the idea of receiving this tea at long last.
Most of my friends have grown bored of the story while some of them are nearly
as fascinated by the proceedings as I am, and some of them even wish to try it
when I finally receive it. Maybe it will arrive by the end of December? Will
they wrap it in palm leaves? Is the taste the same? All I know for certain is
that this year, all I want for Christmas is my two-frond tea.
There was
once a land, far away, and many years ago, that had three kingdoms around a
triangular lake. They often warred , and casualties were fierce.
So they
agreed to hold a tournament of all their champions, on an island in the middle
of the lake.
The first,
being rich and influential, sent twenty Knights, and thirty squires, with many
horses and wagons laden with food and wine.
The second,
being well-off, sent ten knights and twenty squires, as well as several wagons
of food and drink.
The last
kingdom had only one knight, who was very aged and rather decrepit, and had but
the one squire. They brought with them a single iron pot, and a horse with food
enough for the journey.
The first
evening, much revelry was had- wine was shared and spilled in equal measure,
great haunches of meat were roasted and cut, and all are well.
The old
knight counseled that there were rats on the island, and food should be moved
off the ground, to avoid them spreading plague.
The Knights
and squires of the first and second kingdoms disregarded his advice, saying
"Pfah! What does he know? We are so many, no rats would dare bother
us!"
But the
squire of the third kingdom listened attentively to his old knight, and hauled
their old iron pot on a rope over a branch, preventing the rats from finding
it.
In the
morning, all the warriors of the first two kingdoms were ill, finding rat
droppings in their food and sleeping-things, and several of them could barely
even stand, let alone fight.
That night,
the partying was subdued, but still jubilant. Old grudges were settled by the
fireside, tales of heroism told and retold, and many casks of wine were emptied
and tossed aside.
Again, the
old knight counseled the gathered warriors. He warned them that bandits had
long preyed on dwellers of this island, making off with any valuables they
could. "Pfah! What does the old man know?" They cried, well into
their cups. "Surely, no bandit would trouble such an assembled group of
warriors!"
But the lone
squire from the third kingdom listened intently to his wise old master, and
hung a noose beside their pot, dangling from the tree, so that bandits might
see the penalty for troubling them, and be warned away.
The day of
the tournament came, and the Knights and squires of the first and second
kingdoms emerged from their tents to find their fine armour and weapons stolen
in the night by bandits.
Amazed, they
hunted around, but even their horses were gone. The Knights could not fight at
all, and only a very few of their squires could craft cudgels with which to do
battle.
But the
crafty squire of the third kingdom had warned bandits away, and his battered
old pot helm and coat of plates, and his dented old sword, were safe in his
tent.
He took to
the field under the gaze of his master, and although the other squires allied
against him, he defeated those who were well and well-armoured enough to fight
him.
And thus we
learned that the squire of the high pot and noose was equal to the sum of
squires on the other two sides.
It's the day
of Jesus' crucifixion, and Paul the Apostle is having an especially hard time.
Paul loves Jesus more than anything, and he can't bear the thought of him
dying. Unfortunately, Paul's house directly overlooks the hill on which Jesus
is being crucified. So Paul is pacing around his house, trying to distract
himself, when he hears a faint "Paaaauuul, Paaaaaaaauuul" from the
hill- it's Jesus. So Paul runs out of his house to the hill, where several
Roman centurions are keeping guard. When the guards stop him, Paul explains,
"Jesus has a message for me, I need to go up there." The centurions
deny him, and one of them whacks him with the hilt of his sword. Defeated, Paul
returns to his house and resumes his activities, trying to forget what has
happened. About an hour later, Paul hears it again, only louder-
"Paaaaauuuul! Paaaauuuulll!" Paul is kicking himself for trying to
ignore the word of Jesus, and he returns to the hill, even more determined to
hear Jesus' message. Knowing that the centurions will try to stop him again, he
sprints past them, taking one of them down with a flying tackle. Still, the
centurions apprehend him as he shouts, "Jesus has an important message for
me! Let me hear the dying words of my Lord!" The centurions proceed to
beat the hell out of him and toss him down the hill. Paul returns home to tend
to his wounds and pray to God for forgiveness for failing to be at Jesus' side
as he dies. Then, clearer and louder than ever, he hears it again.
"PAAAAAAUUUUULLL! PAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUULLLL!!!" To hell with it, Paul
thinks, I've got to get up there, even if those centurions kill me. So Paul
comes running out of his house once more, this time with a ladder. He runs up
the hill, whacking all the centurions with the ladder and sending them tumbling
down the hill. Paul finally reaches Jesus' cross at the top of the hill and
begins to climb the ladder up to him. The centurions make it up there as he's
climbing and begin breaking apart the ladder with their swords. Paul knows he's
a dead man, but nothing will stop him from hearing Jesus' final message. He
reaches the top of the ladder and gets up close to Jesus' ear and says
"Jesus, I'm here. What is your message?" Jesus turns his head with a
pained look in his eyes, and says through labored breaths, "Paul...
I can see your
house from here!"
There was an
old man who lived by a forest. As he grew older and older, he started losing
his hair, until one day, on his deathbed, he was completely bald. That day, he
called his children to a meeting...
He said,
"Look at my hair. It used to be so magnificent, but it's completely gone
now. My hair can't be saved. But look outside at the forest. It's such a lovely
forest with so many trees, but sooner or later they'll all be cut down and this
forest will look as bald as my hair."
"What I
want you to do..." the man continued. "Is, every time a tree is cut
down or dies, plant a new one in my memory. Tell your descendants to do the
same. It shall be our family's duty to keep this forest strong."
So they did
Each time
the forest lost a tree, the children replanted one, and so did their children,
and their children after them.
And for
centuries, the forest remained as lush and pretty as it once was, all because
of one man and his re-seeding heirline.
I was a
bard, Alice of the Glass Blade was my name, and I trudged through the
less-than-picturesque mountain city of Four Crows Peak. I was studying music at
the academy resting at the tallest peak of the Treetoss mountains. I realised I
needed to buy two lute strings and so I faded into the fog. I came out below to
find a long silk road. As I made my first step I came across a dragon, the
dragon flew above me and all civilians were losing their minds. I got ready for
battle. But then I realised I had to buy my two lute strings and so I went on
my way. I came down the mountain and soon found myself into wide long valleys
that stretched on forever. I reached a crossroads and there in the middle was a
great shiny demon. And he said, "Play the best song in the world, or I'll
eat your soul", I took my lute and I said in a great big voice,
"Okay!" . But then I realised I had to buy my two lute strings and so
I went on my way. Next I found myself crossing a huge river. This river was
enriched in lore, with tales of great battles once fought here. I felt a drift
in the water and out came a horrifying Kraken. It looked at me, hungry,
starving, ready to strike. I was ready to run... But then I realised I had to
buy my two lute strings and so I went on my way. Finally I got to town, and as
I entered the music store I found the much trek-for lute strings. I went to the
counter and said: "I would like to buy these lute strings" the old
man behind the counter looked at me and bellowed in a great big voice,
"That'll be $3.80" I gave him my money and went back home.
All
throughout High School, Bill had been admiring Sue from afar but was never
brave enough to ask his dream girl out. Finally, their Senior year rolled
around and after years of waiting he asked her to prom. Much to his suprise she
said yes and the began to make plans to go together.
About a
month before the dance Bill went to get a Tuxedo. When he arrived ar the
mensware store he was greeted at the door with a massive line. So, he waited,
and waited, and waited then when he finally was in the front of the line he got
the very last suit in the store. Happy with his purchase he went home to
continhe planning for the Prom.
A couple
weeks before Prom, Bill went to rent a Limousine for he and Sue's special
night. Once again he was greeted with a massive line. He waited, and waited,
and waited and when he arrived at the counter he reserved the last availible
limo for that night. He then returned home, very happy, to continue planning.
Then, the
day before Prom he went to the florist's to get a corsage. He again waited, and
waited, and waited in a very, very, very long line. Once he was at the front of
the line he purchased the last corsage in the store. Jubilant, he retured home
to prepare for the next day.
Finally,
it's the day of Prom. He takes Sue to prom wearing the tux that he waited, and
waited, and waited to get while riding in a limo that he waited, and waited and
waited to reserve next to the girl of his dreams who was wearing a corsage that
he waited, and waited, and waited to buy. Midway through a night of dancing
Bill goes to get drinks and there's no punchline.
It was a
rare, bright, sunny day in the Scottish Highlands, and John Smith was enjoying
his holiday, exploring the beautiful landscape.
He paused
for a moment, leaning against a stone wall and taking a long drink from his
water bottle.
As he stood,
there, taking in the scenery, an older gentleman in a wax jacket, with a border
collie at his heel approached and wished him a good afternoon. John nodded a
greeting and took another drink. "Beautiful day for it" he said.
"Aye, that it is, that it is." the man replied. After a short
silence, he spoke again. "Ya see this here wall, laddie?" John
indicated that, yes, he could indeed see the very wall he was leaning on.
"This wall, laddie, it stretches for five miles, right tae the border of
the McAngus property. And I built the whole thing wi' me own bare hands.
"But do they call me Hamish the wall builder? No, they dinnae." John wasn't
sure how to respond to this, so he merely shrugged and said "I see".
Hamish continued.
"You
see the barn over yonder? I built that barn with me own two hands when the
previous one was taken down in the great storm of '86. I built the previous one
as well." "With your own bare hands?" interjected John.
"Aye laddie, aye! Wi' me own bare hands. But do they call me Hamish the
barn builder? Nae, laddie, they dinnae."
He pointed
to the coast. "On a clear day such as this, ya ought to be able to see the
wee jetty at the end of the road down there." John indicate that, yes, he
could just about make out the jetty. "I built that jetty wi' me own two
hands, and three others like it hereabouts. "But do they call me Hamish
the jetty builder? Nae, they dinnae."
"The
jetties, the barns. They was built wi' timber I cut my own self from the forest
over yonder. I felled the trees, hauled them oot o' the forest, cut them intae
planks. "But do they call me Hamish the tree feller?" "I don't
suppose they do?" ventured John. "You'd suppose right laddie."
Hamish
sighed a deep, mournful sigh.
"But ya
shag just one sheep..."
Young Barry
was not the most successful when it came to women. After several years of
loneliness, he finally met his perfect woman - Lorraine. Several joyous months
passed for Barry. he and Lorraine were perfect for each other. He loved her
smile, her sense of humour, everything about her was perfect.
Six months
into their budding relationship, and things were already beginning to look much
less perfect. Lorraine was becoming frustrated with some of Barry's more nerdy
hobbies, the video games, the comic books. She couldn't understand how he could
love these things that she saw as childish. Barry, meanwhile, couldn't
understand Lorraine's obsession with trying to make him wear fashionable
clothing. What was wrong with his ancient, faded jeans and his Game of Thrones
T-shirt anyway?
One night,
Barry was out on the town with the lads, when he happened to meet another young
lady by the name of Claire-Lee at a club. He was a little tipsy, and found
himself chatting and even flirting a little with the beautiful girl, almost
forgetting Lorraine. Claire-Lee, it seeemed, was every bit as nerdy as Barry,
and he found the time with her flying by as the chatted about the latest video
games and the argued good-naturedly about whether Marvel or DC was the best.
Eventually,
the lights in the club came on - it was closing time. Seeing his friends had
already gone, Barry offered to walk Claire-Lee home. She accepted and they
walked together to her front door. They said goodnight, and Claire-Lee
surprised Barry as she pulled him to her for a goodnight kiss. Before he left,
she grabbed his wrist and scribbled her phone number onto his arm, with a
little heart.
The next morning,
Barry awoke with a little hangover, but nothing too bad. He felt a little
guilty about flirting with Claire-Lee and kissing her, but nothing had really
happened. He resolved to tell Lorraine about it to absolve his guilt. Surely
she would understand? She didn't. It was the last straw. Lorraine told him she
didn't want to see him anymore. They were breaking up.
She left a
distraught Barry alone in his flat. He supposed it had been inevitable, they
were too dissimilar, but it still hurt. Then he looked down at his arm, at the
number scrawled there. And he realised something. Something that made him
happy. So happy, he burst into song...
"I can
see Claire-Lee, now Lorraine has gone!"
There's not
a whole lot of information available about Russia's space program during the
space race, as they were fairly secretive about their plans. Only recently are
we learning about some of their missions in released documents, including
experiments in building a permanent base on the moon. It would be
self-sufficient, housing both humans, animals, and plants to produce food.
Initial
testing went well; Laika proved that they could shoot farmdogs into Earth's
orbit. Some work with typical crops like tomatos and potatos were very
promising, as the plants managed to bud in low-gravity.
When America
landed on the moon, they had to shift into high-gear. Within months, they had
secretly fired a manned capsule to the moon with a single chicken. The
cosmonaut had an inflatable tent to act as a chicken coop, and was intended to
spend three weeks eating nothing but eggs. The eggs were too fragile, however,
and the mission was called off; chickens wouldn't work as their eggs were
compromised the the hostile environment.
A secondary
mission fired another capsule with a cosmonaut and a goat. The cosmonaut was
intended to stay for three weeks supplementing rations with goat milk, and his
ultimate goal was to culture cheese. After only a week, however, it seemed that
the goat only produced half as much milk on the moon as it did on earth, and
the cosmonaut had to return after only a week and a half.
Given the
information gathered, the moon colony was finally ready. They would send three
men and ten cows, who produced much more milk than goats. The men would plant
crops, tend to the cows, and try to survive on the corn, grains, and potatoes
they grew alongside cow's milk.
Once
everything was loaded up, the countdown began. With only ten seconds left,
engineers noticed a fatal flaw in one of their engines, and called for the men
to evacuate. The cosmonauts barely made it out, but the cows were trapped
on-board as the rocket took off. They made it three hours before their primary
engine failed; to prevent the cows from crash-landing somewhere dangerous, the
engineers managed to bring it into low orbit for two days before crashing it in
the Siberian forests.
If you go to
their crash site, the USSR erected a stature there in honor of the cows that
gave their lives. The plaque detailing their achievements translates roughly to
"the herd shot round the world."
Hey, folks.
I love these things. What's the point of a dad-joke if you can't drag it on too
long?
I hope my
favorites haven't been submitted before. The catalog is a bit too big for me to
read all of them.
Ahem
There was
once a family of vultures: a mom, a dad, and a child. Every day, the parents
would go out to the desert, find something dead, and bring it back, and they
would all eat happily.
One day, the
child said to his parents, "I don't want to eat meat anymore. My friend
the rabbit gave me some fruit, and it was the best thing ever! I want to start
eating plants."
The father
was outraged. "No son of mine will eat plants!" But the mother
followed him as he stormed away.
"Dear,
we have a good son. He's just a little confused. We should let him have some
plant food if he really wants it, it's just a phase."
"Well,
alright," said the father. "I'll bring some meat, you go out and get
some--eeuugh!--vegetables, or something."
The mother flew
over the nearby town for a few hours. She found a carrot first, but it slipped
through her fingers. It was too thin. Same with cucumbers and bean sprouts.
Tofu didn't work at all. She finally managed to hold onto a can of peas.
The two came
back home. The child turned his nose up at the roadkill armadillo his father
brought, but was overjoyed when his mother dropped the can of peas on a rock,
breaking it open.
"Thank
you, mom!" But as he started for the food, his dad blocked his way.
"I
don't understand you, kid, and I think you're making a mistake. Vultures need
protein. Before eating that rabbit food, have some armadillo. Do it for your
old man."
"But
dad, I don't want to eat dead animals!"
"Carrion,
my wayward son. There'll be peas when you are done."
In the land
of magic there once lived a fay creature called Mary. She was the same as all
the other fairies until one night during the full moon she was bitten by a
werewolf.
All the
fairies knew that if they got into any trouble they should immediately tell
their queen, which Mary did. As she told of her mishap she felt herself begin
to change into a wolf, at which point the Queen cast a spell that stopped the
metamorphosis part way through. Unfortunately, this also permanently held Mary
in a state of transformation: although still obviously a fairy she was now
covered with fur. No matter what was tried, nobody could reverse the effect.
Once a
lively fairy, Mary became shy and withdrawn.
The Queen
was worried by this and decided to give Mary a task which would suit her more
solitary lifestyle.
To allow her
to cover great distances the Queen travelled by bird. Birds as a whole are not
clever, so to ensure she ended up where she needed to be the Queen preferred to
use crows, which are noted for their intelligence. Amongst the crows was one
which was even smarter than the rest. He was also very lazy, so would hide away
to avoid having to transport the Queen, even though he was the crow which she
preferred to use. She had tried many ways to keep track of where this crow was,
but he often managed to elude her. This was the task the Queen gave to Mary: to
keep the crow with her so the Queen would always know where he was.
Mary asked
for a few days alone with the crow to work out her strategy. After the allotted
time Mary and the crow returned to the royal court, and whenever transport was
required the Queen called for Mary and she would appear with the crow.
Among the
other fairies there was much conjecture about how Mary was able to do this, as
the task had been assigned to many others before her to no avail. This led to
many members of the community seeking out the guardian of the royal transport
to ask…
Fairy Mary,
quiet and hairy, how do you guard a crow?
“Brian, this is really bad.”
“I know,
Ann.”
“That was
ALL our silver.”
“Yeah, I
KNOW!”
“I just
can't believe it,” she went on. “We make a living hunting werewolves, and yet
it's a common thief that is going to be responsible for our deaths.”
“See, this
is a prime example of why I can't stand it when the whole town catches wind of
what we're doing,” Brian said. “They all think forming a big mob will somehow
help kill a supernatural monster completely immune to all ordinary weapons. It
attracts rabble, and some of that rabble is very opportunistic!”
“It couldn't
really be helped this time. We needed to ask around a lot in order to trace the
creature's lair back to this old mine.”
“It wasn't a
silver mine, was it?”
“Sorry,
iron. And it's not like that stuff'd just be lying around even if it was.”
“Yeah, I
know. I just...” he sighed. “Any minute now that thing is going to notice all
the commotion, come running out, and start tearing into a bunch of defenseless
civilians, which this time includes us.”
Suddenly,
Ann's eyes lit up.
“Wait! I
have an idea! Just try to keep the werewolf away from the mob for like, two
minutes!”
“What are
you going to do?”
“Just trust
me!” She disappeared into the crowd. It sounded like she was asking people
something, but he couldn't quite make it out. He sighed and walked into the
mine.
The mine was
long and dark. Brian's helmet was equipped with a light that cast a fairly wide
beam, but that just made him feel more vulnerable. That monster would see him
coming long before he saw it. He just hoped the light would be bright enough to
disrupt the creature's night vision, at least for a couple minutes.
Brian
rounded a corner and was immediately pounced and pinned on his back by a
snarling beast. He instinctively caught its lunging snout before it could reach
his throat, and desperately held on as it furiously shook its head back and
forth. It raked its sharp front claws across his face, but this left it with
only two feet on the ground. Brian seized the opening and kicked the creature's
hindlegs out from under it, taking advantage of its temporary unbalance to roll
it over so that he was now pinning it to the ground. The thing's jaws managed
to slip out of his grasp in the process, though, and took another snap at him.
Brian deftly leapt back, and ran to the far end of the chamber before the
lycanthrope got back on its feet. It eyed him suspiciously and slowly
approached its victim. Brian could tell it was about to pounce again. He only
had one chance to get this right. He slowly grabbed the light on his helmet,
took a deep breath, and flung it to his right while simultaneously dodging to
the left. The werewolf, wound up like a spring, made an instinctive leap for
the light, noticing only too late the human was not still attached to it.
By that
point, said human was sprinting like mad back down the dark passageway and out
of the mine entrance. “ANY TIME, ANN! HE'S RIGHT ON MY TAIL!”
Ann
triumphantly emerged from the crowd, holding some sort of handkerchief. “It's
OK, I found what I was looking for! Get behind me.”
She unfolded
the cloth to its full size and watched the mine entrance carefully. The
scratching of paws on stone grew louder until finally, a shape emerged. It
leapt for her, but she quickly held up the handkerchief, catching its head with
the cloth.
There was a
sizzling sound and a yelp of pain which gradually morphed into a man's shriek
before the creature's entire body collapsed into luminous dust.
Brian was
speechless.
“That
handkerchief...”
“...Was
woven with silver thread, yes. Apparently one of the people in this mob is the
baron's niece. I figured I was bound to find something like that among all
these people.”
“Um... why?”
“Look,
Brian. I know you hate it when a big mob gets tangled up in our work. For the
most part, I agree with you; a big group of people, all angry, scared, and
collectively confused, can be a HUGE inconvenience. But you've got to always
remember, every crowd has a silver linen!”
Once upon a
NO time,there was a NO village,home to many NO villagers. There were but NO two
NO rules in the NO village. NO one:Every NO noun had to be preceded by the NO
word 'NO'(in all NO caps) unless the NO word 'no'was already a natural part of
the sentence,or if it was a proper NO noun. NO two:No NO outsiders were
permitted. Another interesting NO thing about this NO village is that there was
for some inexplicable NO reason no friction;thus,NO things tended to slide NO
around. Now,NO one NO day,a NO outsider came to the NO village. His NO name was
Moss. The NO villagers decided to push Moss of a NO hill as NO punishment for
wandering into their NO midst. Moss slid down the NO hill,and he created a NO
avalanche because of the NO fact that there was no friction. Moss died,buried
under a NO pile of NO rocks. So I guess you could say:A rolling Moss gathers NO
stones.
In order to
keep the people of his colony in check he had a book of magic spells which he
would use against any rebels. His favorite incantation was a spell that would
turn anyone who rebelled against him into an apple. The people in the colony
suffered under the witch's reign for years, until one night they finally built
up enough courage to steal the magic book of incantations. The people sent in a
spy to grab the magic book but he could only grab one spell, that being the
apple spell. The next day when the witch woke up the leader of the rebels got
up and turned the witch doctor into an apple, thus freeing the people from his
evil reign. But, the spell warns that if the apple changes in color or weight,
that means that the spell is only temporary, and it will turn the apple back
into a person. So the people decided that every day they would put the apple on
a scale to make sure t hadn't gained weight, because as the old saying goes
"A weigh a day keeps the doctor an apple"
During the
days when Native Americans were being forcibly and systematically removed from
their ancestral lands, a small band of Cherokee had managed to elude the U.S.
cavalry by using secret refuges in the Appalachian mountains. The only
advantages they had were a particularly brutal winter that made navigating the
mountains impossible for anyone without an intimate knowledge of them, and the
brilliant leadership of their cunning war chief, Black Wolf.
Now Black
Wolf was getting on in years, and he had never married or had any offspring. He
knew the time was coming for him to name a successor, and his intended
candidate was his nephew: Falling Rocks, so called because of the way he would
fall on the enemy with the fury of a rock slide. However, the other members of
the tribe would think that he favored Falling Rocks due to his kinship, rather
than merit. Some in the tribe would rather he name another brave, Tall Bear, to
be the new war chief. Tall Bear was perhaps the mightiest warrior in the tribe,
but he was brash and impulsive-- he had no mind for strategy, and won his
battles on brute force alone. Falling Rocks, however, was a tactician and
leader. He knew when to fight, when to flee, and when to try diplomacy. Black
Wolf knew that the future of his tribe depended on more than merely being a
skilled warrior.
To reconcile
the two sides, Black Wolf announced that the new war chief would be decided by
a test, and invited all who were interested to participate. Seven braves met
him atop a rocky peak, just as the spring thaw began to open the mountain
routes.
"This
is a test to determine who shall be the new war chief," Black Wolf
addressed the assembled warriors, "You will walk in the direction of the
setting sun, and return. Whoever travels the farthest shall be my successor.
This test has no end-- only you can decide when you have traveled far
enough."
The braves
pack their belongings and depart the camp that evening, with Tall Bear and
Falling Rocks racing to be the first through the pass. Despite being rivals,
there was no animosity between them. They had fought alongside each other many
times, and each felt that the other pushed him to his fullest potential.
After a few
days, one of the braves returned. "I saw a great village of the whites,
with more people than I ever knew lived on this world. It was heavily patrolled
by soldiers and I felt I could go no further."
A few weeks
pass, and another brave returns to the camp. "I visited vast lakes so
large I thought they were part of the ocean, but the water was fresh, not
salty. I encountered a great thunderous waterfall of tremendous power. At this
point, I felt I could go no further."
A month
passes, and the third brave makes his way back. "I saw a mighty river,
larger than any I had seen before. I could find no way to cross its muddy
waters, and was forced to turn back."
Another
month passes until another brave returns from his quest. "I made it to
vast plains, with no trees in sight. Mighty horned beasts grazed in herds
beyond counting. Their hooves shook the ground like thunder. I dared not risk
being lost to the anger of these creatures, and had to turn back.
Months pass,
and the fifth brave returns to the tribe. "On my travels I discovered
another range of mountains. Unlike ours, these were sharp and jagged, piercing
the sky with their height. I thought that this must be the backbone of the
world, but I could find no way to cross them, and could go no further.
Still,
neither Falling Rocks nor Tall Bear had returned, and the tribe had been
severely weakened without them. They could not access their hunting grounds,
which were now overrun with whites, and winter was once again threatening to
seize the mountains in ice. The elders of the tribe were pressuring Black Wolf
to name his successor now, because they could not survive waiting around for
anyone else to return. Black Wolf held out for as long as he could, every day
sitting on the peak where he had issued his challenge, watching the pass for
the return of his nephew. Finally, the rest of the tribe had had enough, and
demanded that he name the brave who most recently returned as war chief. Just
then, a lone figure staggered through the mountain pass, wrapped in buffalo
skins and holding some sort of strange shell. It was Tall Bear.
"I
walked until I encountered another ocean. It was similar to ours, but I could
tell it was also quite different. The life that inhabits it was unlike what we
catch in our waters. However, I could find no way to go any further."
Black Wolf
knew that he couldn't wait for Falling Rocks any longer, and named Tall Bear
the new war chief, but every day he would go to the peak and watch the pass for
his nephew. Eventually the cold winter air struck him with an illness that he
knew he would not survive. Calling Tall Bear and the other braves to him, he
told them that he still knew in his heart that Falling Rocks was still alive,
and it was his dying wish to have the tribe always keep vigil for when he
returns. Tall Bear and the other braves swore to never stop waiting for their
brother in battle.
And that's
why, to this day, when traveling in those mountains, you can still see signs
that say "Watch for Falling Rocks"
So last
Saturday it was our monthly poker night and the usual crew were there. Me, Jo,
Winston and Simon. Unfortunately, Jo's sister, Bea, was in town and had
convinced us to let her join in.
We'd all
known each other since we were kids, and Bea was one of those kids that was
both a bad winner and a bad loser and none of us really liked her all that
much. But it had been a few years since we'd seen her and with any luck she'd
have matured a bit since then.
The plan was
simple, play some cards, have a few drinks, retire to the living room, order in
some food (dinner was on the winner, naturally) and watch TV.
So the game
began and the drink started flowing, and after an hour or so I had a big pile
of chips in front of me and everyone seemed to be having a good time, despite
losing their money. Except for Bea, was the only other one left with a decent
sized stack.
After a big
win she had just under half the chips. I had more, but still, if I lost this
one I'd be out next hand. I had an Ace and a four. The flop was all clubs, but
it contained the four. Pair with an ace high. She bet high, I followed and
called. The turn gave us another four. Three of a kind. Again, we both bet
high. Much higher in fact. About a third of my stack was in play now.
Finally, the
last card was turned up. Ace of Spades. Full house. I couldn't lose. But,
clearly, she thought the same as she went all-in.
The look on
her face when I called still haunts me today. It was almost beetroot and
scowling. She nearly exploded when she revealed her Flush and I my Full House.
Congratulations
were thrown around by the rest of the guys, commiserations and "well
played"s handed out to Bea.
We stood to
leave the table and Bea clearly 'accidentally' knocks the table, spilling the
chips and, more stickily, the beer all over me.
I protest
slightly and Jo looks naturally mortified at her sisters behaviour.
"Come
on, Bea," Jo said, "maybe we should go"
A slight
feeling of pity and a fit of mercy and incredibly poor - and drunken -
judgement overcame me and I said "no, stay, I've still to buy you guys
dinner anyway"
So I ordered
food and we sat down in front of the TV. It was Saturday night, and our
gambling session hadn't quite ended as a few of us had put on Lottery Tickets.
While we
waited for food, we decided to watch the draw. I was sat on the couch,
sandwiched between Bea and Winston. Excitement built up as two of my numbers
came out at once, followed by a tense few seconds as the next two missed.
Finally a third came out, I'd won a tenner. I felt Bea, beside me, start to get
restless again. The second my fourth number, and my £100 win, came out, the
ticket left my hand and was swiftly torn up by the enraged Bea. She burst into
tears and ran out the door, knocking the incoming delivery guy over onto his
arse, sending our food flying into the night.
It just goes
to show you, that when the chips are down, and you think your number's up:
Don't Stop Bea Leaving.
There once
was a man named Tim. Tim had a pinky pink car and worked at a pinky pink garage
shop. He has worked at this garage for upwards of twenty years and he had a
great relationship with his boss. Tim didn't have many friends, so the time
spent with at work with his boss was great. After work everyday. He returned to
his pinky pink home. Walked through his pinky pink door. Entered his pinky pink
kitchen. Made his dinner (its a normal dinner) and after watching some pinky
pink tv, he returned to his pinky pink bed.
One morning.
Tim woke up in his pinky pink bed and went to his pinky pink kitchen and made
his breakfast (its a normal breakfast) He took a sip of coffee from his pinky
pink mug and, because of his lack of friends, thought "I wonder how many
people drink coffee in the morning" Tim got in his pinky pink car and went
to work at his pinky pink garage shop. After a full days work, Tim returned to
his pinky pink home and went to his pinky pink kitchen and made his DINNER.
While
watching his pinky pink tv. A storm erupted and his pinky pink tv began to
broadcast static. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Tim got up from his pinky pink couch and
walked over to the pinky pink door. A man. Dripping wet is standing there.
"I... I so sorry to disturb you. But... But... My c..c.. Car..." Tim
pulled the man inside. Tim is an eagle scout and can see hypothermia begin to
torment this man. After putting a pinky pink blanket around the man. Tim learns
the man's car broke down. Tim offered the man a pinky pink bed in a pinky pink
guest room and will get the mans car fixed at his pinky pink garage shop in the
morning.
Tim is now
tired and decides to go to sleep. He is asleep for about an hour until... KNOCK
KNOCK KNOCK. Alarmed, Tim got up from his pinky pink bed and walked over to the
pinky pink door. A man. Dripping wet is standing there. "I... I so sorry
to disturb you. But... But... My c..c.. Car..." Tim pulled the man inside.
As I have said before. Tim is an eagle scout and can see hypothermia begin to
torment this second man. After putting a second pinky pink blanket around the
man. Tim learns the man's car has also broke down. Tim offered the man a pinky
pink bed in a different pinky pink guest room and will get the mans car fixed
at his pinky pink garage shop in the morning along with the first mans.
Tim, now
exhausted, heads to his pinky pink bed and passes out. Not 30 minutes pass.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Annoyed, Tim got up from his pinky pink bed for the second
time and walked over to the pinky pink door. A man. Dripping wet is standing
there. "I... I so..." Tim figures it all out already. Pinky pink blanket.
Car broke down. Tim offered the man a pinky pink bed in his third AND LAST
pinky pink guest room and will get the mans car fixed at his pinky pink garage
shop in the morning along with the other two men.
As Tim
begins to nod off in his pinky pink bed, he swears that he will not get up
again if the door is knocked.
Tim slept in
a bit late. Like 8 am. Working at a garage shop, Tim normally wakes up around 5
or 6. He quickly shuffles to get a pinky pink shower and brush his teeth
(normal teeth) He knocks on the pinky pink door of the first pinky pink guest
room. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The pinky pink door swings open. No one there and
pinky pink bed made. As if no one was ever there...
Tim goes to
the second pinky pink door of the second pinky pink guest bedroom. KNOCK KNOCK...
And the door swings open. Again, no one there and the second pinky pink bed is
made. As if no one was ever there...
Tim,
starting to get it, doesnt even knock on the third pinky pink door of the third
pinky pink guest room. For a third time, no one there and the third pinky pink
bed is made. As if no one was ever there...
Tim,
confused, begins to leave and has no interest to visit his pinky pink kitchen.
He is running late and has no time to make breakfast but hears some chatter so
he decides to investigate. He sees his guests: two drinking coffee and one
drinking tea. And Tim thinks "Oh. I guess two out of three people drink
coffee in the morning."
So there is
this land called cheerio land and in cheerio land there are 7 classes of cheerio,
0-5 and the frosted cheerios. Now there is this level 0 cheerio. He’s homeless,
living out on the street, probably an alcoholic. But he falls in love with a
frosted cheerio princess. So one day he sneaks into the royal gala and goes up
to the princess and asks her "will you marry me?"
Now she says
"I like your style, you're a good looking guy, a bit scruffy but I like
you. Tell you what I will marry you if you can become a frosted cheerio"
So our guy goes back with a determination and gets a job and starts to pay off
his debts. Now by having a job and his debts paid he becomes a level 1 cheerio.
So he works, and he works, and he works, and he WORKS and he finally becomes a
level 2 cheerio. Now he goes back to the princess and asks her again, "will
you marry me?" she says "no honey you really do have to become a
frosted cheerio first."
So he goes
back and he works and works, hes a fryboy at McGrubers or something, I don't
care. So he works and he works and he gets promoted at the restaurant and is making
more money. And he works and he works and he works and by having that income
raise he finally becomes a level 3 cheerio. He feels successful for the first
time in his life but he is starting to fall back on his old ways.
One day he
goes to the casino and he loses and he loses and he loses and he gambled all
his money away and he gets fired to boot because gambling is against company
policy. So he is back down to a level 1 cheerio. He gets a job on a production
line at a nearby factory and determines himself not to fall back ever again. So
he works and he works and he works and he works and he WORKS, level 2, level 3,
and he is doing great again. He is promoted to Floor manager of the factory and
he is doing great and becomes a level 4 cheerio.
But then one
day a rival company sabotages their operation by putting poison in their
toothpaste or whatever the hell they were making. They have to pay out damages
and PR and the like and they declare bankruptcy. He is knocked back down to
level 2 for the lack in income. But he is hired almost straight away by a
branch of a huge conglomerate because they recognized how hard of a worker he
is. So he works, level 3, works, level 4, and he works and works and WORKS.
So he is
promoted to CEO of the branch that he works in. A few months pass and he is
approaching level 5 status when the Head of the entire conglomerate decides to
retire. He weighs his options for his replacement and sees our guy and what a
hard worker he is and chooses him as his replacement. So our guy is now the CEO
of a huge company, a level 5 cheerio and making Bill Gates level money and he
finally becomes a Frosted Cheerio.
So he goes
to the princess and asks her again, "will you marry me?" and she says
"Yes I will marry you now." So a few months pass and they're at the
wedding reception, they already said their vows and the party is winding down.
The newlywed wife tells her husband "Hey I'm thirsty, can you go over to
the bar and get me a Gin and Tonic or something?" So the dutiful guy he is
he went over to the bar and low and behold the bartender wasn't there. So he
waits and he waits and he waits and he waits 15 minutes and the bartender still
hadn't shown up so he decided he must have gone home since the party was
winding down. So he went back to his wife and tells her the bartender wasn't
there, can I get you something else? she replies: "Ok, its fine. Here take
this dollar and go buy me a Diet Coke at the vending machine in the lobby. So
he goes to get it and there's a line for the machine. It was the princesses
wedding so obviously a lot of people would show up.
So he waits
and he waits and he waits in line and he finally gets up to the machine only to
find that the prices were hiked because they knew they could gouge them. So he
goes back to his wife gets another dollar and waits and waits and WAITS in line
only to find once he finally reached the front that they were out of Diet Coke.
So he buys a regular Coke instead and takes it to his wife. She throws it away
saying she needs to keep her figure yadda, yadda, yadda.
So she tells
him to get a cup off the table and get her some water from the cooler. So he
goes over there and there is a line there too so he waits and he waits and he
waits in line and the cooler runs out of water 5 people ahead of him. So
exasperated he goes back to his wife and tells her, look there out of water is
there any other source of liquid in this damn place. So she tells him
"screw it, just to go get some punch from the punch bowl."
So he
leaves, gets the punch, and comes back within a minute. She says "wow,
that was fast. What happened? How did you get it so fast?" and he replies
"Well it was a short wait because there was no punchline."
A man,
walking out on the street, steps inside a bar because it starts to rain. He's
not in any rush, so he figures this would be a good a way to kill some time. As
he walks in, he notices that there is a person sitting at the bar with a giant
orange as a head.
He goes to
the other side of the bar and waves over the bartender.
"Hey,
man. What's up with the guy with the orange head?"
The
bartender laughs. "Yeah, everyone seems curious about that, no doubt.
Problem is, he doesn't really like talking about it. Not unless you buy him his
favorite drink."
"That's
fine! I just want to know this guys story. What does he take?"
"Rum
and cola."
"Okay.
I'll take two of those."
The bartender
prepares both the drinks and hands them to the man, he walks over and sits down
next to the man with the orange head. He puts one drink in front of him.
"I
suppose you want to know how I got this orange head, huh?"
"If
it's not too much trouble," the man says.
"I
guess I can share one more time. I worked as an accountant for years and years.
Probably more than you could imagine. I was making a pretty poor living for
myself, and I was very lonely. Being overworked for some years can really have
an negative impact on a man, so I decided to take a vacation. I wanted to go
some place with beaches, so I went to Hawaii. Typical, I know, but I had never
been. The first day I'm there I take a walk on a big beach on the main island.
As I'm walking along I stub my toe on something in the sand. I bend down to
pick it up, and much to my surprise it's a genie lamp."
"A
genie lamp?" the other man says, "Come on. You're kidding,
right?"
"I have
an orange for a head and you're questioning THAT?"
"I
suppose you're right. Sorry, go ahead."
"Anyways,
I rub the lamp and a genie pops out, obviously. Just like the stories, he said
to me 'You can have three wishes!' My first wish, obviously, was to be rich
beyond my wildest dreams. Then, right at that moment, I felt something really
heavy in my pockets. Hundreds of dollars in cash, a few new ATM cards loaded
with millions, and keys to a new house and a new car."
"Jesus,
that's incredible! What was your next wish?"
"I told
you I was very lonely, right? Well I wanted a companion, someone to love. So I
wished to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world. As soon as the
last words left my lips, out of the water comes the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen in my entire life. Absolutely gorgeous. The genie married us right
then and there. It was absolutely wonderful. I had never been happier in my
entire life."
"Well,
Greg, this is definitely one of the most bizarre and incredulous stories I've
ever heard. You've gotta finish it."
"Well,
to be honest, all those things kind of went away with my orange head. I spent
millions on reconstructive surgery and research to try and get rid of it, and
my new wife wouldn't even look at me."
"Alright,
you've gotta tell me about the head."
"Well,
that's where I kind of fucked up. My third wish was for an orange head."
So there was
a European circus that was just starting up. The manager had gathered almost
every act he needed for a good show, except a grand finale. So he decided to
hold some auditions. After seeing multiple dancing animals, people who would
eat all sorts of things, and some performances he couldn't even begin to
explain, the manager was getting fed up. But luck was on his side as the last
audition strolled in. What exactly had strolled in was a huge troupe of
acrobats from the Basque country in northern Spain. Well, they put on such a
show for the manager; swinging from high ropes, flipping around, throwing each
other into the air, that he hired them on spot saying that they were perfect
for the big finale.
Anyway, as
the day of the performance was nearing, the manger chose to run through a
routine fire drill with the circus acts. He explained that the human-cannonball
and the clowns should leave through the south exit, the dancing elephants to the
north along with the bearded lady, and the amazing Basque acrobats should leave
through the double doors to the west of the building.
Well, would
you believe it? On the opening day of the circus, a fire broke out. The alarms
pierced the sound of the show, resulting in everyone needing to vacate the
building immediately. The crowd filed out of their closest exits, and the
bearded lady, human-cannonball, dancing elephants, clowns etc. all left with no
issue. The acrobats, however, had been in the middle of their routine and were
rushing to the double doors to the west of the building. But as the large,
panicked group of acrobats approached the doors, the corridor became narrower
and the Basque performers began to squash together, slowing them down. As the blaze
came closer, they became even more hysterical, squashing together even more and
fumbling at the doors, one of which was later found out to be locked.
Unfortunately,
due to the panic and the narrow corridor, all of the acrobats died in the fire
at the circus. The manger was devastated. Which just goes to show you, don't
put all your Basques in one exit.
So there was
an Irishman who ran a Bed & Breakfast in the countryside named Shaun. One
morning, a leprechaun walked into Shaun's B&B and asked for a banana and a
five-cent euro coin. Shaun obliged the leprechaun, and sent him on his way.
The next
day, the leprechaun was back, again asking for a banana and a five-cent euro
coin. Again, Shaun provided him with both.
The third
day, Shaun's banana supplies were running dangerously low. The leprechaun once
again walked in, but Shaun said he could only give him half of a banana and a
five-cent euro. The leprechaun accepted those and left.
The next
morning, Shaun checked the unoccupied bedrooms (as is the wont of any B&B
proprietor worth his rustic countryside location) and noticed the bedspread
slightly ruffled. Puzzled, as he knew it was perfectly crisp the day previous,
he straightened it out and went about his business. He reached the front desk.
The
leprechaun was there.
Once more
the leprechaun requested his tithe of tropical fruit and petty change, but
Shaun only had a quarter of a banana left in the whole building by then, and he
was saving it for his lunch. Still, he didn't want to upset the leprechaun and
risk losing the valuable Sidhe customers that kept his establishment afloat
between tourist seasons, so he gave it to the leprechaun.
When Shaun
checked the open bedrooms the following morning, he was shocked to discover
that the bedroom with the mysteriously ruffled bedspread only twenty-four hours
previous was trashed. All the furniture was only vaguely identifiable as
furniture, it looked like it would be much more at home in a dump. The windows
were shattered, as were the mirrors, and there was neon yellow spray paint on
every wall. In a state of shock, Shaun headed to the front desk to see him.
Shaun exploded at the leprechaun, refusing to give him any more bananas or
coins. In an angry puff of fruity smoke, the leprechaun vanished.
That
evening, Shaun went to a pub, needing a few very strong drinks after the whole
affair. He got them and headed back to his B&B. When he arrived, it was not
there, replaced by a smoldering crater and the wreckage of his beloved Bed
& Breakfast and a few charred corpses of one-time guests of his. Shaun
stood there in shock for a few seconds before the leprechaun walked up and
stood beside him. Shaun asked the leprechaun if he was the one who ruffled the
bedspread.
"Yes,"
said the leprechaun.
Shaun asked
if he destroyed the furniture and painted all the walls.
"Yes,"
answered the leprechaun.
Shaun asked
if he blew up the Bed & Breakfast.
"Yes,"
replied the leprechaun.
Shaun asked
why he always wanted a banana and a five-cent euro coin. Shaun asked why he
retaliated with increasingly violent backlash when he did not receive a full
banana. Shaun asked why he blew up Shaun's livelihood.
"I can
tell you," answered the leprechaun, "but you must promise me first
that you will never speak of it to another living soul for as long as you
live."
Shaun
agreed.
And what the
leprechaun told Shaun, we will never know, because Shaun kept his promise and
died without telling a single living soul.
I was doing
odd jobs a while back to make ends meet, and one of the jobs that I ended up
not getting sticks in my mind because I could have done one thing differently
to get the job and it would have been easy as cake. The job was paving a path
onto a flat part of a hillside so that hikers and pedestrians could have easier
terrain by which to traverse the scenery. The berm was only a few hundred feet
long but the job paid well so I decided to give it a shot.
The
gentleman sponsoring the project was an eccentric nature buff, and his mental
faculties weren’t all there. The only other person that had shown up was a
short white guy named Larry. Once it became clear to the old guy that we were
both equally qualified for the task, he told us each to write our names on
slips of paper and hand them to him. I did as he bid in a matter of seconds,
scrawling my name in my chickenscratch handwriting (somewhat like this and
handed it to him.
Larry, on
the other hand, took a bit longer. I found out later that he was an expert
penman, and it showed, he wrote his name in a curled script, somewhat like
this.
The
gentleman took one look and walked over to Larry and shook his hand,
congratulating him on his winning the job. “Why does he get the job?” I asked,
infuriated. “I thought you were just going to draw them out of a hat or
something! This is entirely unfair, I was just as capable if not more so than
him of paving that trail!”
“Don’t you
know?” replied the gentleman, smiling in a disgustingly smug manner, “The curly
word gets the berm.”
Several
years back I was vacationing a small town well-known for its tradition and
history of sailing. Though I was having fun visiting tourist shops and being a
passenger on some of the finest sailboats in the country, I felt like I was
missing out on the heart of the town: the art of sailing. Consequently, I
decided to give it a shot, and I headed down to the harbor.
I was
greeted by a man named Jenkins who looked uncannily like a pirate. Though he
had no eye-patch, he had a wide-brimmed hat and dirty-looking teeth and a sneer
that sent shivers through my spine. I asked him hesitantly where to go, and he
sent me down to the docks, particularly towards one Junebug, the best ship with
the most experienced captain.
A asked
Captain Murphy if would show me the ropes in sailing. “Funny you should ask it
like that,” he replied, “as the first thing you need to know, before you can do
anything else at all, is tie phenomenal knots.” He grabbed a length of rope
from a pile on the deck and said, “here, I’ll demonstrate one of the more basic
knots and you can follow.”
He tied a
pretzel knot, to which I scoffed, replicating it perfectly. “Looks like we got
ourselves a little prodigy over here. Why don’t we move on to something a
little tougher, and more useful.” My eyes widened as his unexpectedly delicate
fingers wove an intricate design with the rope. “Your turn.”
My fingers
fumbled over the rope and I could only remember a few of the steps so I jumbled
the knot beyond all repair. “Ah, if you can’t do that knot that’s alright, we’ll
work up to it. Just coil that up for me and come back tomorrow.” I coiled the
rope up, but it unraveled immediately. “What the barnacle!” he cried in dismay,
“If you can’t even coil a rope correctly you’re wasting my time. You’d be
better off seeing Bluebeard, three ships down.”
Defeated but
still determined I visited Bluebeard. He told me the same thing and I was a bit
nervous, but when he asked me to replicate the same knot I remembered a few
more of the steps and I got a little bit closer. However, the rope was still a
jumbled mess after I was done with it so he told me, “Just coil that up for me
and you can return soon for another try.” I did, but once again my coils were
foiled royally. Boiling with anger, I listened to him berate my incompetency as
he sent me to Captain Lars’ ship.
Lars was
much more friendly than the other two, and he took a little more time with the
complicated knot, telling me each loop and bend I needed to do. I tied it
perfectly (third time’s the charm, right?) and gave a gleeful exclamation. I
was interrupted by Lars, who was also equally proud, asking me to coil it up so
I could come back the next day and help him out with some more difficult tasks.
I was nervous, but I ended up successful and the rope stayed coiled as I hung
it up. I turned to leave, but then I had an afterthought. “Lars,” I queried, “Why
exactly was I unable to roll up the rope when I fucked up the knot with the
other two captains?”
“Don’t you
know?” replied Lars, “A botched knot never coils.”
Several
hundred years ago in medieval Northern Europe there were ice giants who bore
hatred for all humans, especially their massive stone structures. Additionally,
these giants could only eat humans, any other sustenance was quite insufficient
for them. Unfortunately for the people of the time these giants also had
immensely powerful legs, and however high and however thick a castle might be
built the giants could kick through the gates, gaining access to the city. and
therefore the edible humans who had sought safety within.
The issue of
the giants was so significant that many of the nobles at the time were
desperate for a solution, not only to protect the peasants from the giants but
also so they wouldn’t have to keep rebuilding the gates of the castles; this
and other repairs of damage were highly expensive and it was lowering their
high quality of life.
The nobility
decided that the engineers of the time were the best suited for the job, so
they called together a council. The engineers devised a clever mechanism
composed of iron gears and cogs such that the gates would no longer be so weak.
In theory it worked, but in the first city it was implemented the brittle iron
cogs were smashed to bits through the residual force of the giant’s powerful calcitration,
leaving the gates no more tightly closed than an unlocked door.
The
engineers were called once more to devise a solution and they unanimously
agreed they needed a softer metal out of which to manufacture the cogs in the
mechanism, and they decided on gold. Fortunately, a large mine had been
discovered recently so instead of jewelry and luxurious shit like that a large
portion of the gold was sent to the engineers in their construction of a new
mechanism in one of the most hard-hit cities. They finished just as the distant
stomps of the giants were heard, so they shuttled the peasants into the city,
praying to whichever gods they held that the gate would hold.
Sure enough,
the giants kicked and kicked, but the cogs remained intact and the gates were
secure. After this massive success, the gates were implemented in castles
throughout the continent, and the giants died out for lack of human prey. The
engineers responsible were given high praise, but the nobility was curious as
to how they had known the structure would work.
“It’s
simple,” replied the lead engineer when asked. “You can’t breach gold cogs
through kicks.”
A while
back, I was working downtown as a handmade tie salesman trying to make a quick
buck using a skill I'd learned. Though this was really just a side venture
while I tried to find a real job, I was making a decent bit of coin.
Additionally, people were recommending me as a source for their neck apparel.
One day,
this fellow comes up to me and asks whether I'd be willing to teach him the art
of tie-making. I tell him I'd be glad to under the condition that, in addition
to paying me a small fee, he purchases one of my ties. He, owning none of the
sort, is glad to, so I show him the basics and give him a lesson on the various
materials required for making a nice tie. He leaves about an hour before I wrap
up, and with his business and fee it was one of the most successful days I had.
I had
thought he was just curious, but the next day he came back for another lesson.
Though the fee he had paid me yesterday was enough, I still needed him to buy
another tie from me so I didn't have an overstock. He did, although he was
somewhat apprehensive (he didn't really need many ties in his current line of
work as a fast-food cashier). I gave him another lesson and actually put him at
the loom (making ties is fairly simple business), and he turned out a good tie
on his second try, which I gave to him as a token of goodwill. He thanked me
and told me he'd be back again early the next day.
He arrived
when he said he would, ready and eager for another lesson. I told him he needed
to buy another tie before I could teach him again, and this time he was
skeptical. "Why should I purchase another? I already have three!" and
I told him "Task me no lessons, and I'll sell you no ties."
Back in the
early days of TV, there were only two channels, the Red and the Blue. So when
Fred checked the Blue channel and saw Peter the station weatherman forecasting
a beautiful day, Fred decided to take his wife Maude out on a picnic lunch. He
packed the lunch himself, slicing cheese and smoked meats for appetizers,
cooking and packing fried chicken for lunch, chilling a bottle of wine for the
meal.
Maude notices all the activity and decided to check the weather forecast
herself. She turns on the Red channel and sees Rudy the station forecaster
predicting rain. Unwilling to break Fred's heart, she decides not to tell him
about the impending rain, but instead packs a pair of throw-away ponchos in her
purse.
Rudy's forecast proves to be correct, and they spend the last half of their
picnic under a tree and wearing ponchos against the steady rainfall. During the
meal, Fred asks Maude how she knew the rain was coming. Maude replies...
"Rudy the Red knows rain, dear!"
A guy is
having serious problems with his teeth and finally breaks down to go see the
dentist. The dentist takes a look in his mouth and says, "My God! This
doesn't look good at all. Have you been eating anything out of the ordinary?"
The man
sheepishly replies, "Yes. I've got to admit I'm addicted to hollandaise
sauce. I can't get enough! I'll have about a quart for breakfast, another quart
at lunch, and a whole big bunch at dinner."
"Aha!"
said the dentist. "I know just the thing! We'll resurface your mouth with
a metal plate. In fact, I think chrome would be best."
The man
asked, "Why's that?"
And the
dentist replied, "Because there's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise!"
There was a
little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did
ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things,
and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the
bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little
group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
Being a
little boy, Billy was curious. So, he asked them, “What’s the Purple Wombat?”
“You don’t
know what the Purple Wombat is?” the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the
rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and
staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with
the rest of the children.
“Hey, Mister
Bus Driver!” one of the chldren shouted. “Billy doesn’t know what the Purple
Wombat is!”
The bus
driver turned around abruptly. “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” he
said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by
himself.
Eventually,
they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class
proceeded normally; the students did the Pledge of Allegiance and worked on
their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit
on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher
mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy’s hand
shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, “Teacher, what’s the
Purple Wombat?”
“You don’t
know what the Purple Wombat is?” the teacher cried in alarm, “Get yourself to
the principal’s office right now, young man. No, no buts — march!”
So, Billy
headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal’s office. He
slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it.
There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a
hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice.
He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his
office almost to tears.
“Well,
Billy,” he began slowly. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Mr.
Principal, I just don’t know what’s going on today. Everyone’s been acting
weird, and they’re all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to
you and stuff.”
“Now, Billy,
I’m here to help you. I’m the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me
why everyone’s acting so strangely?”
“It’s
because I don’t know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.”
“What? You
don’t know what the Purple Wombat is? That’s it. I am calling your mother,
young man. Consider yourself suspended.”
The
principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying,
began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the
doorway waiting for him.
“Billy!” she
called, sobbing, “I was so worried about you! What happened?”
“Mom,” Billy
cried, “Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus
all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal’s office and the
principal suspended me, all because I don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!”
“What? You
don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” Billy’s mother shrieked. “Go to your
room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!”
So, Billy
marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After
some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father
was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn’t know what
they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door
opened.
“Billy,” his
father began in that lecturing-father tone, “Your mother says you’ve been
acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you’ve done?”
“Dad, I
haven’t done anything! I just don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!”
“You…don’t know
what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room
all night, mister. And forget about dinner!”
Billy’s
father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his
eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way — lying there, crying,
wishing he would wake up.
Then, in the
middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat,
Billy.”
Billy sat up
with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the
voice, but he could not.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy.”
It was
coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the
window, and climbed out on to the roof.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat.”
Billy jumped
down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a
wood.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy.”
The voice
was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but
Billy didn’t care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely,
he entered the wood.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy.”
Billy kept
going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and
walking into things and hurting himself. But, he kept going, driven by a need
to find this enigma that kept calling his name.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy.”
Eventually,
Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat. I’m out here, Billy.”
It was
coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the
dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very
difficult. But, he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.
“Billy. I am
the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy.”
The voice
was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began
to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: “Billy,
I am the Purple Wombat. I’m up here, Billy.”
It was
coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for
it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn’t know how to
swim, so he drowned.
Moral of
this story: Don’t stand up in a boat.
A guy has
spent five years traveling all around the world making a documentary on native
dances.
At the end
of this time, he has every single native dance of every indigenous culture in
the world on film. He winds up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into
a pub for a well earned beer.He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and
tells him about his project.
The
Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher Dance."
The guy's a
bit confused and says, "Butcher Dance? What's that?"
What?You
haven't seen the Butcher Dance?
No, I've
never heard of it.
Oh, mate.
You are crazy. How can you say you have filmed every native dance if you have
not seen the Butcher Dance?
Umm.I got a
corroboree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean? "No no, not
corroboree.The Butcher Dance is much more important than corroboree."
Oh, well how
can I see this Butcher Dance then?
Mate,
Butcher Dance right out in the bush.It takes many days of travel to go see
Butcher Dance.
Look, I've
been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to
the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me
from recording this one last dance.
OK, mate.You
drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive197 miles, you see
dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles til you see big
huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see.Leave your car there because it
is too rough to drive.Walk due west for 8 days and you will find the village
where you can see the Butcher Dance.
So the guy
grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out.After a couple of hours he
finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he's forced to crawl
along at a snails pace and so he doesn't reach the tree until dusk and he's
forced to set up camp for the night.
He sets out
bright and early the following morning.His spirits are high and he's excited
about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance which he had
never heard mention of before.
Eight
arduous days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives
feed them and give them fresh water.They begin to feel like new men. Once he's
recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he
has come to film there Butcher Dance.
Oh mate.It's
very bad that you came today. The Butcher Dance was last night.You are too
late.You missed dance.
Well, when
do you hold the next dance?
Not 'til
next year.
Well, I've
come all this way.Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me, tonight?
No, no, no!
The Butcher Dance very special.It is performed once a year. If it is performed
more, the gods get very angry and destroy village!If you want see the Butcher
Dance you come back next year.
The guy is
devastated but he has no other option but to head back to civilization and back
home.
The
following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out
again, sets out a week earlier than last time.He is quite willing to spend a
week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is present
to witness it.
However,
right from the start things go wrong.Heavy rains made the first leg of the trip
very slow going and what should have been 8 days of hiking turned into 14 days
because of various storms, injuries and such.
Eventually,
having lost all sense of how long they have been traveling, they stagger into
the village at about midday.
The Butcher
Dance! gasps the guy. "Please don't tell me I'm too late!"
The chief
recognizes him and says "No, white fella.The Butcher Dance is tonight. You
came just in time."
Relieved
beyond measure, the crew spends the rest of the afternoon setting up their
equipment - preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid.
As dusk
falls, the natives start to cover their bodies in white paint and adorn themselves
in all manner of bird's feathers and animal skins.
Once
darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a
huge roaring fire.
A deathly
hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with
elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters the circle and
begins to chant.
Some sort of
witch doctor or medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief,
"What's he doing?"
Hush,
whispers the chief."You are the first white man ever to see most sacred of
our rituals. Must remain silent.Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dream
world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and, if
they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect
us for another year."
The chanting
of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he moves himself from the
circle.From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land
and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm.
The guy is
becoming caught up in the fervor of the moment himself.This is it. He now
realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to
witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by
mankind.
The chief
strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to
sing, "You butch yer right arm in.You butch yer right arm out.You butch
yer right arm in and you shake it all about..."
Tom was from
a small town, a village, a hamlet, hardly even a locality. They aspired to get
a horse someday. Nothing happened there, no one famous was from there, no one
famous had ever been nearby, not even George Washington.
So when a
circus came to a nearby town, one that actually had a horse, Tom was excited
beyond words. Everybody was. Everybody made the journey, everybody bought a
ticket. Every single person Tom knew was in the audience, and many more. Tom
had never seen so many people, ever, let alone in one place at one time. There
were dozens of 'em.
It was a
magical time. The ringleader had a big hat. The acrobats defied belief. The
little trained dogs were enchanting. Tom not only saw an elephant, he also saw
motorcycles driven upside down in the Sphere of Death. But the moment Tom was
waiting for was when the clowns came out to make everyone laugh.
Tom was,
admittedly, an odd person, because he didn't find clowns creepy or lame at all.
He found them hysterically funny, or, more accurately, he found the idea of
them hysterically funny. He'd never seen one as he'd never watched TV and the
Simpsons weren't invented yet. It was a hard time to be alive in that way.
At last the
clowns appeared. They piled out of a tiny car, they threw water at people out
of buckets but it was really confetti, they had ridiculous attire. Tom almost
hurt himself laughing.
Then the
boss clown called for attention. "Would the person sitting in seat 7B
please stand up?"
It dawned
upon Tom that he was in seat 7B. He stood, trembling at the threshold of local
celebrity. No one from his town had ever been singled out for attention before.
Hello, good
sir, said the clown, "Are you a horse's hoof?"
N-no.
No? Why,
then, you must be a horse's head! Are you?
Uh... no.
Oh. I guess
that makes you... A HORSE'S ASS! HAW HAW HAW!
Everyone Tom
ever knew laughed and Tom wished earnestly for a quick, merciful death. He
slunk away from the circus, his cheeks covered in tears of shame.
His life
changed radically. Before, Tom had been accepted by his peers and loved by his
family. He had a sweetheart. No more. He became the butt of small town humor,
known to all as a horse's ass, haw haw haw. He became bitter, isolated, weird.
Thoughts of revenge twisted his mind. He drew up plans to murder the clown with
poison, firearms, implements of medieval torture, power tools, hired thugs,
and, impractically, a horse's ass. He rejected all of them. Finally, he decided
how to take revenge. Let it be fitting.
Tom moved to
New York City, the world's capital of rudeness at the time. He took a job as a
cab driver and was awesomely surly. He worked as a street vendor and was
excessively snide to everybody. He finally became an insurance adjustor and was
pretty average. At last he had enough money and enrolled in college.
His major
was Insults and his minor was Quick Witted Retorts. He studied the classics. He
studied the moderns. His dissertation dripped with venom and the review board
fell into a deep depression. He became internationally recognized as an
authority on the subject. At last Tom felt ready.
He began to
stalk the clown. Disguised as a begger, a mailman, a rich gent, he attended 62
performances. He studied the clown's routine, memorized it, generated timelines
and gantt charts. After gathering his data and rehearsing his plan to
perfection, he purchased a ticket for seat 7B.
The clown
called out, "Would the person sitting in seat 7B please stand up?"
Tom stood.
Suspecting
nothing, the clown said, "Hello, good sir. Are you a horse's hoof?"
Tom shrieked
at the top of his lungs, "Fuck you, clown!"
A man named
Dave was about halfway through his workday when it dawned on him that it was
his wife Kate’s birthday, and that he hadn’t bought her a present yet.
Dave loved
his wife and didn’t want to disappoint her, so he thought hard, trying to come
up with a good idea for a gift.
Soon it
dawned on him that Kate had been hinting that she’d like to have a dog someday
soon. She had always had dogs growing up and was disappointed that she couldn’t
keep one at their old apartment. They had only recently bought a house with a
sizable yard, one that was perfect for a dog or two. Dave couldn’t think of a
better way to show his love for his wife than to come home today with a dog.
After work
Dave went to a nearby pet shop owned by a friend of his named Carlos.
“Carlos,
Kate wants a dog,” he said, “and today is her birthday. It’s kind of sudden,
but do you have a really nice, friendly and attractive dog that she might like?”
“I sure do,”
said Carlos, who led Dave into the back of the store where there were a number
of kennels, each containing a dog. Carlos led him all the way to the back of
the room and pointed to a particular kennel.
“Take a
look,” said Carlos.
Dave looked
into the kennel and saw that inside was a young but grown dog with a coat that
was a rich brown color. Most remarkably, Dave noticed that the dog’s coat was
amazingly, fantastically, overwhelmingly shaggy.
“That’s the
shaggiest dog I have ever seen,” said Dave, amazed.
“Yep,” said
Carlos, “and he’s friendly, too.” Carlos opened the kennel and brought out the
dog, who nuzzled against Dave and licked his hand.
“I’ll take
him,” said Dave.
Half an hour
later Dave’s car pulled up into the driveway of his home. Kate, who arrived
home from work earlier, saw him coming and came out to greet him. When Dave
opened the back door and let the dog out, Kate gasped with delight and ran to
meet the new pet, who took to her immediately.
“Happy
birthday, Kate,” said Dave, kissing his wife on the cheek as she hugged the
dog.
“Thank you,
baby,” she said. “He’s beautiful. I think he’s the shaggiest dog I’ve ever
seen!”
“I know!”
said Dave. “That was the first thing I noticed about him.”
“I think he’s
the shaggiest dog in the neighborhood,” said Kate. “We should show him to the
Lassiters next door.”
“Let’s do
that now,” said Dave.
He attached
the leash he had bought on to the dog’s collar and the three of them walked
next door and rang the doorbell of their next door neighbors, the Lassiters.
Mr. Lassiter emerged.
“Hey Dave,
Kate,” said Mr. Lassiter. “What’s going on?”
“We’d like
you to meet the newest member of our family,” said Dave, who then pointed down
to the dog.
Mr. Lassiter
was shocked. “Wow,” he said, “That’s the shaggiest dog I’ve ever seen!”
“He
certainly is shaggy,” said Kate.
“I think
this is the shaggiest dog in the entire city!” said Mr. Lassiter. “We should
show this dog to the mayor! I’ll call my friend at city hall tonight!”
Mr. Lassiter
made the call, and his friend arranged for a meeting on the steps of city hall
the next day during Dave’s Lunch break. The mayor was amazed and pleased with
the dog.
“That’s the
shaggiest dog I’ve ever seen!” said the mayor.
“Thank you,’
said Dave.
“Why, I
think it’s the shaggiest dog in the entire state! You should bring this dog to
meet the governor! I’ll arrange it right away.”
The mayor
called the governor’s office and arranged a meeting for the following Saturday
when the governor was in town. Dave brought the dog to the governor’s hotel and
the state’s chief executive met him and the dog along with the mayor next to
the hotel pool.
“That’s the
shaggiest dog I’ve ever laid eyes on!” exclaimed the governor.
“He
certainly is a shaggy dog,” said Dave.
“I’ll say,”
said the mayor.
“This is
easily the shaggiest dog in the state,” said the governor. “I think it may be
the shaggiest dog in the entire country!”
“Really?”
said Dave.
“Yes!” said
the governor. “I think it’s time to take this dog to meet the President of the
United States!”
The governor’s
office made the arrangements. Two weeks later Dave, Kate, the dog, the mayor
and the governor flew to Washington, D.C. and arrived via taxi at 1600
Pennsylvania Avenue. An aide ushered them through the White House and into the
Rose Garden, where they waited for the President.
About an
hour later, accompanied by the strains of “Hail to the Chief,” the President of
the United States entered the Rose Garden. He shook hands with the governor,
the mayor, Dave and Kate.
“So is this
the dog I’ve heard so much about?” asked the President.
“Yes,” said
Dave.
The President reached down and petted the dog
on the head. He looked at the dog closely.
“This is the
dog that you think is so shaggy?” said the President.
“Yes,” said
Dave, “Don’t you think he’s the shaggiest dog you’ve ever seen?”
“No,” said
the President.
The Original
Shaggy Dog Joke:
A tramp was
walking along a London street when he picked up a copy of the Evening Standard.
And there he read a small advertisement which said, “Lost shaggy dog.
Distraught millionaire offers £1m reward for return of said mutt. Easily
identified. You will never have seen a shaggier dog. 100 Cheyne Walk, London,
SW10.”
At that
precise moment a dog walked by. It was the shaggiest dog the tramp had ever
seen, and it was by itself. Without hesitation, the tramp apprehended the dog
and went straight to Cheyne Walk.
“I am so
sorry, sir,” said the lady who answered the door, “but that is an old
advertisement. Mr Linebacker has left for Montevideo.”
So the tramp
and the dog stowed away on a ship, got off at Montevideo, and went straight to
the Linebacker address. “Oh, so sorry,” said the maid who answered the door. “He’s
on holiday in Sydney.” Without a word, the man and the extraordinarily shaggy
dog ran to the harbour and stowed away on a second ship, bound for Australia.
Alas, they
missed the millionaire there, too. The butler who opened the door said, “It is
my duty to inform you that Mr Linebacker has returned to London to count his
millions.”
So, the
tramp and the fantastically shaggy dog returned to 100 Cheyne Walk.
They were
immediately ushered in to the presence of the great man, Mr Ebenezer Linebacker
The Third.
“Have you
got my shaggy dog, the shaggiest in the world?!” he cried. “I swore I’d pay a
million pounds for his safe return, and that, indeed, I shall.”
Triumphantly,
the tramp revealed the dog. “Here, sir,” he cried, “is your dog! The shaggiest
in the world!!”
Mr
Linebacker looked at the dog and said, “Oh, no! That’s not my dog. He’s nowhere
near as shaggy as that!”
In this tale
a landlord is plagued by a leprechaun who, each evening prevails upon him to
lend the leprechaun a half (then a quarter, then an eighth and so on, this joke
can and has gone on for over an hour) of a banana and a piece of string. Each
night, an explosion occurs in the room given to the leprechaun, increasing in
violence as the quantity of banana decreases, beginning with a mere ruffling of
the bedclothes and ending in the complete destruction of the inn. Finally, with
his inn utterly destroyed the Landlord begs to know what the leprechaun has
done and the leprechaun at last agrees to tell him but only on the condition
that the landlord never tells anyone the secret.
And to this
day he never has
There were
100 monks who decided that they wanted to build a monastery. It took them 2
years to build one. When they were outside admiring their work, a little boy on
a little red bike came and blew it all up, killing half of the monks. The 50
remaining monks decided to rebuild the monastery. It took them 4 years to
rebuild it. When they were outside admiring their work, a little boy on a
little red bike came and blew it all up, killing half of the monks. The 25 remaining
monks decided to rebuild the monastery. It took them 8 years to rebuild it.
When they were outside admiring their work, a little boy on a little red bike
came and blew it all up, killing half of the monks (plus one). The 12 remaining
monks decided to rebuild the monastery. It took them 16 years to rebuild it.
When they were outside admiring their work, a little boy on a little red bike
came and blew it all up, killing half of the monks. The 6 remaining monks
decided to rebuild the monastery. It took them 32 years to rebuild it. When
they were outside admiring their work, a little boy on a little red bike came
and blew it all up, killing half of the monks. The 3 remaining monks decided to
rebuild the monastery. It took them 64 years to rebuild it. When they were
outside admiring their work, a little boy on a little red bike came and blew it
all up, killing two of the monks. The last monk was furious, so he got on his
little blue bike and chased the little boy on the little red bike. No matter
how hard he pedaled, he couldn't catch the little boy on the little red bike.
After a few hours he gave up.
The moral of
the story: Red bikes are faster than blue bikes.
There once
was a knight dressed in black and white garb, riding a black and white horse.
He decided to get married to a princess and therefore approached the king to
ask him for his daughter's hand. But before arriving at the castle, the black
and white knight, riding on his black and white horse, encountered a guardian.
The guardian said: "I am the first guardian! Who are you?" The black
and white knight, riding on his black and white horse, said: "I am the
black and white knight, riding on my black and white horse!" The guardian
asked: "What do you want?" The black and white knight, riding on his
black and white horse, said: "I want to marry the king's daughter!"
The guardian said: "You may proceed!" So the black and white knight,
riding on his black and white horse, rode on. Soon, the black and white knight,
riding on his black and white horse, encountered another guardian. The guardian
said: "I am the second guardian! Who are you?" The black and white
knight, riding on his black and white horse, said: "I am the black and
white knight, riding on my black and white horse!" The guardian asked:
"What do you want?" The black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, said: "I want to marry the king's daughter!" The
guardian said: "You may proceed!" So the black and white knight,
riding on his black and white horse, rode on. Then, the black and white knight,
riding on his black and white horse, encountered yet another guardian. The
guardian said: "I am the third guardian! Who are you?" The black and
white knight, riding on his black and white horse, said: "I am the black
and white knight, riding on my black and white horse!" The guardian asked:
"What do you want?" The black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, said: "I want to marry the king's daughter!" The
guardian said: "You may proceed!" So the black and white knight,
riding on his black and white horse, rode on. Finally, the black and white
knight, riding on his black and white horse, reached the castle. The black and
white knight, riding on his black and white horse, was let to the king. The
king asked: "Who are you?" The black and white knight, riding on his
black and white horse, said: "I am the black and white knight, riding on
my black and white horse!" The king asked: "What do you want?"
The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse, said: "I
want to marry your daughter!" The king asked: "Do you have a castle
of your own?" The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse,
said: "No." The king said: "You cannot marry my daughter without
a castle of your own!" So the black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, left the castle and spent some years amassing the wealth
needed for building a castle. Then, he re-approached the king's castle. Again,
before arriving at the castle, the black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, encountered a guardian. The guardian said: "I am the
first guardian! Who are you?" The black and white knight, riding on his
black and white horse, said: "I am the black and white knight, riding on
my black and white horse!" The guardian asked: "What do you
want?" The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse,
said: "I want to marry the king's daughter!" The guardian said:
"You may proceed!" So the black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, rode on. Soon, the black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, encountered another guardian. The guardian said: "I am
the second guardian! Who are you?" The black and white knight, riding on
his black and white horse, said: "I am the black and white knight, riding
on my black and white horse!" The guardian asked: "What do you
want?" The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse,
said: "I want to marry the king's daughter!" The guardian said:
"You may proceed!" So the black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, rode on. Then, the black and white knight, riding on his black
and white horse, encountered yet another guardian. The guardian said: "I
am the third guardian! Who are you?" The black and white knight, riding on
his black and white horse, said: "I am the black and white knight, riding
on my black and white horse!" The guardian asked: "What do you want?"
The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse, said: "I
want to marry the king's daughter!" The guardian said: "You may
proceed!" So the black and white knight, riding on his black and white
horse, rode on. Finally, the black and white knight, riding on his black and
white horse, reached the castle. The black and white knight, riding on his
black and white horse, was led to the king. The king asked: "Who are
you?" The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse,
said: "I am the black and white knight, riding on my black and white
horse!" The king asked: "What do you want?" The black and white
knight, riding on his black and white horse, said: "I want to marry the
your daughter!" The king asked: "Do you have a castle of your
own?" The black and white knight, riding on his black and white horse,
said: "Yes!" the king then said: "Get lost, all my daughters are
married already."
A man is on
vacation in France, and is enjoying his dinner at a restaurant. Suddenly, a man
rushes in, leaves a note on the table, and then runs away. The man picks it up
to see what it is and what it says, but the note is in French, which he doesn't
understand. When the waiter gives him the bill, the man asks him "excuse
me, but what does this note say?" and gives him the note. Upon seeing what
it says, the waiter instantly goes into a rage and tells the man to leave the
restaurant at once. He does, and brings the note with him, wondering what he
got so angry about. Throughout the joke, the man continues showing this note to
various people, but gets a worse punishment every time: he gets beaten up, put
in jail, and forced to leave the country. When finally at home, he puts the
note away in a drawer, seeing how it has brought him nothing but bad luck.
Still, he's more curious than ever to what the note says. Later, he befriends a
guy that's fluent in French, and after being friends with him for several
years, he decides to show this man the note. He puts it in front of him, asking
him to translate it for him, but makes him promise that whatever it says, he
must not get mad or stop being his friend, just tell him what the note says.
...As his friend goes to pick the note up, a strong gust of wind blows by and
takes the note with it.
A world
famous conductor, a marvelous conductor, has decided that he's finally had
enough, and he's going to retire. He announced his final performance, and as
always, the theatre is completely packed. The performance is amazing, and he
decides it's a fitting farewell. He leaves after the performance, but is
approached by a group of large, intimidating men. They tell him that he can't
quit now, he's just too good, and if he retires, they're going to break his
legs. Frightened by the threat, he tries to figure a way out of it. He
announces another performance. Again, the theatre is packed, and the
performance is marvelous...but at the end, he whips out a pistol and shoots a
violinist in the head, killing him instantly. He's arrested and brought before
a judge, who asks "How do you plead?". He says "I'm guilty,
everyone saw me do it." The judge replies, "Then I have no choice but
to sentence you to death by electric chair." Before he's brought to the
chair, he's asked for his last meal, and he requests a dozen bananas on a silver
platter. He's led to the chair, strapped in, and the machine turned on. It
looks like he's dead, but as they're unstrapping him, he twitches a bit, before
appearing to come back to life. The executioner says "It is a sign from
God to set you free! You may go." This process is repeated several times,
each time he commits a bigger crime (bringing out a flamethrower and torching
his entire orchestra, throwing a grenade into the audience), going into more
detail about his prison stay (his cellmate, the condition of the cell),
increasing the amount of power given to the chair (much longer than usual, then
enough to short out the entire prison building), and the appearance of the
man's death lasting longer (he comes back to life when being taken out of the
prison, then scratches are heard from inside his coffin). The last time, the
minister giving his eulogy opens his coffin after hearing the scratches and out
pops the man, good as new. "How do you keep doing this?" the minister
asks. "This is incredible!" To which the man replies: "Didn't
you hear? I'm a bad conductor."
Three men
were driving down a lonely country road one night. Suddenly, the car broke
down. One man was a mechanic, but try as he might, he couldn't get the car to
start. They checked, but there was no cell phone reception for at least a
hundred yards in every direction. Looking around, they saw a dim light far in
the distance, and with no other option, they headed towards it. About halfway
there, the wind was becoming fierce. A storm was brewing. They had a brief
debate on whether or not to go back to the car, but decided if they were to go
back, the wind would be against them, and so continued on. As the rain started
to come down, they found the light was from a bed and breakfast. The proprietor
was a skinny old woman, so deaf the men needed to shout to get her attention,
but polite enough, and was not at all unhappy about them checking in so late.
They decided it was late, so they would call a tow truck in the morning, and
went to bed. They woke up the next morning and went downstairs for breakfast.
The first man ordered Corn Flakes, the second man ordered Corn Flakes, and the
third man ordered Fruit Loops. What's the moral of the story? Two out of three
people choose Corn Flakes.
The lion and
the elephant are arguing over who's really King of the Jungle; the lion says
he's traditionally King, therefore he should be King, but the elephant argues
he's stronger, so he should be King. Eventually, they decide to have a football
game to settle the matter, and they pick other animals to be on their team. The
elephant picks, among others, the rhinoceros because he's big and strong and
tough to tackle, while the lion picks, among others, the donkey, because he can
kick the ball far with his hind legs. The elephant's team wins the toss and
elects to receive. The lion tells the donkey, "Just kick it as high and as
far as you can. Oh, and don't kick it to the rhinoceros; he's good." The
donkey promises not to kick it to the rhinoceros. The donkey then kicks a
beautiful kick...right to the rhinoceros, who runs it back for a touchdown. The
lion's team is able to drive back and tie the score, since he has a good team.
The lion tells the donkey, "Listen, that was a mistake, and I'll let it
go, but don't kick it to the rhinoceros." The donkey says he won't. Once
again, he kicks a beautiful kick...right to the rhinoceros, who runs it back
for a touchdown again. Once again, the lion's team is able to drive back and
tie the score. Dissolve to the 4th quarter. The score is tied. It's being going
like this the whole game. The lion is so angry right now steam is coming out of
his ears, and says to the donkey, "Listen, if you kick it to the
rhinoceros one more time, I'm going to have you for dinner tonight." The
donkey says he won't. Once again, he kicks a beautiful kick...right to the
rhinoceros. The rhinoceros has it at the 40, the 30, the 20, and he's got no
one to stop him, when all of a sudden, he trips and fumbles. The lion's team
recovers, and has a chance to win the game. The lion looks around to see what
caused the rhinoceros to trip, and that's when he notices the centipede.
"Centipede, is that you?" "Yes." "Nice tackle."
"Thanks." "Where have you been?" "In the locker
room." "The locker room?!? What the hell have you been doing all this
time in the locker room?" "Tying my shoes."
A man who
liked travelling once went to Africa. While exploring the picturesque
landscape, he saw a roaring elephant. The man went closer and saw a spear stuck
in the elephant's leg. The man felt pity for the poor animal, pulled the spear
out and bandaged the wound with his own shirt. Many years had passed since
then. The man was going for a walk in his home town and saw a poster which said
that a circus famous for its trained elephants was coming to the town. The man,
interested, decided to go to the show. During the performance on of the
elephants suddenly broke the fence surrounding the cirque, ran towards the man,
grabbed him with his trunk and smashed him against the floor. It wasn't the
same elephant.
Billy lived
in a boring little town, the only attraction being a run-down old zoo with
nothing but run-of-the-mill farm animals. One day, when passing by the zoo, he
spots a huge, shiny, brand new enclosure. Running towards it he discovers it
houses a bright purple gorilla. The zookeeper sees him admiring it, and he
tells him, "Ah, this is the Pan-Pan Fandango Gorilla. Imported him for
Nicaragua only this weekend. He's a great animal, and very intelligent: cleans
his own enclosure, builds his own shelters, sometimes I think I see him reading
the signs! He's really friendly too, you can wave at him and he'll wave back,
he plays ball with visitors. Amazing creature. Just one thing - don't touch
him." And the zookeeper walks off. Naturally intrigued, Billy sneaks
towards the enclosure, and the bright purple gorilla walks up to him. Billy
reaches out to touch, and the gorilla reaches back... But the zookeeper arrives
and shouts, "What did I tell you! No touching!" and chases him out of
the zoo. Billy comes back late that night while the zookeeper's asleep, and
finds the purple gorilla just sitting there in the cage, waiting for him. They
reach out, and finally touch, and the gorilla lets out a huge roar, suddenly
ferocious. Billy runs in terror, but the gorilla leaps out of the enclosure and
gives chase. Now, here's where the really long part comes - essentially, the
joker describes a round-the-world trip, the gorilla chasing Billy. Maybe he
gets on a plane, only to see the purple gorilla piloting a biplane after him.
Perhaps he hides in a cave and speaks to friendly animals, but the purple
gorilla brings his own animal friends and the boy only just escapes. Maybe they
go to China and battle ninjas on the Great Wall. Anyway, eventually they reach
some suitably climactic dead end - Billy's stuck on a rock jutting over Niagara
Falls as the immense and angry purple gorilla closes in, maybe they make it
back to Billy's hometown where he falls into the enclosure, maybe they make it
to the very edge of the universe and the final confrontation happens on a space
station. The purple gorilla finally closes in, and this time Billy cannot see
any way out. The purple gorilla closes in, eyes ablaze, taps him lightly on the
arm and shouts, "Tag! You're it!"
Bob worked
at a soda bottling plant. One day, Bob decided that there should be new markets
for soda. So he packed up what he thought we would be the best selling product
— Fresca — and set sail for Africa to try and sell it. Just before he left, he
said to his trusted friend Steve, “If I do not return from Africa in six
months, I want you to come search for me.” So Bob sailed off to Africa with
lots and lots of Fresca. Six months came and went, and Steve did not hear from
Bob. The six months turned to seven, then eight, and finally a whole year went
by without a single message from Bob. So Steve packed his own boat and sailed
off to Africa. The trip was a long one. Just as Steve arrived to shore, he
spotted a fisherman along the coast with a rod and reel in one hand, and a can
of Fresca in the other! So Steve asked the fisherman if he had seen Bob. The
fisherman replied “Yes I did. And boy, is he a good salesman. Fish tastes good
with Fresca.” Steve then proceeded along a trail that led into the woods. About
a day later Steve encountered some large bird hunters. They would alternately
shoot their rifles into the air, and take a swig of Fresca. Steve asked if they
had seen Bob. The hunters answered that they had, and that “birds taste good
with Fresca”. Steve continued on, alternating between woods and plains, and
finally a savanna. At that point, he encountered a steel trap on the ground but
got away just in time. But the trap was sprung anyway, alarming a group of
gazelle trappers hiding behind a nearby hedge. When they saw that it was just a
person they were mildly disappointed it wasn’t their usual prey, but they
chatted for a while. Steve asked them, how in the world does one eat gazelle
meat. They answered, “why, with Fresca of course.” Steve was puzzled for a
moment before they continued with “Gazelle tastes good with Fresca.” Relieved
to know that he was on the right path, Steve continued on his way. After
another couple days, Steve was well into the jungle when he spotted a group of
bushmen, complete with tribal bones in their faces, ceremonial body paint,
spears in hand, along with, quite out of character, bright green cans of Fresca
carried on wooden platforms between pairs of men. Steve carefully approached,
but the bushmen were friendly and said “berries taste good with Fresca”. So
Steve continued on through the jungle. (Steve keeps encountering different
groups of native tribes, missionaries, explorers, etc. all of whom met Bob and
all of whom think stuff tastes good with Fresca) After three days, and about to
give up hope, Steve came to a primitive tribal village, complete with mud huts
like you see on TV. But unlike the Tarzan movies, these huts had stacks of
cases of Fresca all around. Upon hearing a horn-like sound, Steve was suddenly
approached by the tribe’s leader, with nearly all of the village behind him.
Steve: Have
you seen Bob?
Tribal
Leader: Yes. He a good man.
Steve: Oh,
you mean a good salesman? He sold you all this Fresca?
Leader: He a
good man.
Steve: How
was he a good man?
Leader: He
taste great!
Steve: (with
a mixture of surprise and horror, as he noticed the huge metal cauldron perched
on wooden sticks) You mean you ate Bob?
Leader: Yes.
Bob taste good with Fresca. (as the rest of the villagers nod and make
approving sounds)
Steve: You
mean you ate his... nose?
Leader: Yes.
Nose taste good with Fresca.
Steve:
You... you ate his... eyes?
Leader: Yes.
Eyes taste good with Fresca.
Steve:
You...you ate his... ears?
Leader: Yes.
Ears taste good with Fresca.
Steve: You
ate his... arms?
Leader: Yes.
Arms taste good with Fresca.
Steve: You
ate his... legs?
Leader: Yes.
Legs taste good with Fresca.
Steve: You
ate his... lungs?
Leader: Yes.
Lungs taste good with Fresca.
Steve: You
ate his... heart?
Leader: Yes.
Heart taste good with Fresca.
(etc. etc.
etc.)
Steve: Uh...
wait a minute. Wait one minute. You don’t mean to tell me you, you ate his....,
you know, his, uh, THING?
Leader: Yes.
Steve:
(pauses a few seconds) You ate his, THING with Fresca?
Leader: No.
Steve: Huh?
But I thought...
Leader: No
eat THING with Fresca. “Things” go better with Coke. (Note: for younger
readers, that was an advertising jingle for Coca-Cola in the 1960s.)
Ladies and
gentlemen, the Depressed Guy Joke. So there's this guy. He's really, really
depressed. He's too depressed to even commit suicide. That's how depressed this
guy is. Because he's just so very depressed, he lives in his mom's basement and
just sits there being depressed. Well, one day, his mother noticed that the
circus was in town. She figured she would buy him a ticket to try to cheer him
up, because he's just so depressed, it's depressing. She gives him a ticket for
seat 53B, and sends him on his way. Because he's so depressed and has nothing
better to do, he goes ahead and arrives a couple of hours early, while the
circus is still setting up. Everyone else is really busy, so he wanders over to
a nearby giraffe and starts talking to it for a few minutes before wandering
off elsewhere. When he came back, the giraffe had fallen over dead. Its long
neck was flopped over the side of the enclosure, its tongue was hanging out of
its mouth, and flies had already gathered around the body. [Note: This part of
the joke should ideally continue for as long as the patience of the teller and
listener will allow, along with the creativity of the teller.] The circus
finally opens, so the guy goes in, finds seat 53B, and sits down. The show soon
starts, and there are acrobats, and jugglers, and magicians, and lion tamers,
and everything else that makes a circus worth seeing. At the very end, after
the other acts have cleared off the stage, this tiny little car drives out. The
door opens, and this massive, morbidly obese, practically spherical clown steps
out. The clown asks, "Would the person in seat 53B stand up, please?"
The depressed guy goes ahead and stands up, because he has nothing better to
do. The clown then says, "Well, there's one end of the horse, but where's
the other?" This just makes the guy even more depressed. He goes home and
doesn't come out of the basement for thirteen years. All that time, he is
planning his revenge on this fat clown. Well, thirteen years after he first
went, his mother notices that the same circus is back in town. She goes ahead
and buys him another ticket for seat 53B, because she figures that the third
time's the charm, and there is no third time without a second time. So the
depressed guy returns to the circus, just like the last time. The skeleton of
the giraffe is still there, as a modern art piece for some reason. There are a
bunch of art critics gathered around it, debating its meaning. The depressed
guy listens for a while, before going to take his seat. Well, the show goes just
like it did thirteen years ago. The list of performers is exactly the same. The
depressed guy gets a little less depressed at the anticipation of getting his
revenge on that clown. The show goes on, until finally, the same tiny car comes
out onto the empty stage. The same gargantuan clown comes out of the car, and
asks, "Would the person in seat 53B stand up, please?" The depressed
guy stands up, ready to really give it to the clown. Once again, the clown
says, "Well, there's one end of the horse, but where's the other?"
The depressed guy takes a deep breath, and shouts, "Screw you,
clown!"
There was a
young boy who had a terminal illness. Despite being bedridden, he was a
cheerful boy, and his father did everything he could to make his son happy. One
day, shortly before the boy's birthday, his father asked "What would you
like for your birthday?" With barely a pause, the boy responded "a
green golf ball." The father said, "Well, of course, son, but why do
you want a green golf ball?" "Please, father" the boy said,
"don't ask me why, just get me a green golf ball." (The teller can
stretch it out at this point as far as his audience will stand, with each
successive birthday the boy asking for one more golf ball than he had the year before,
and the same conversation occurring each time). One day, the disease finally
became too much for the boy to bear, and he lay on his deathbed. With the last
of his strength, he called his father into his room. The father rushed in, and
sat at his son's bed and held his hands as they both wept. After a long time,
the boy said "Father, I know you've always wanted to know why I wanted
green golf balls every year for my birthday. Now I think I must finally tell
you, since I am not long for this world." The boy's voice had become
little more than a hoarse rasp at this point, and his father had to lean in
close to hear him. "Whisper it in my ear, my dear son," the father
said. The boy leaned forward, until his lips almost touched his father's ear,
and died.
One night a
bunch of teenagers were having a party while their parents were out. It got
stormy and the power went out. The phone rang and one of the teenagers picked
it up. The voice on the other line said "I am the Bloody Finger, and I am
only ten miles away." The kids got freaked out, but decided it must be a
prank caller, and tried to call their parents but none of them would pick up.
After a while the phone rang and the kids were a little scared to pick it up,
but they thought it might be some of the parents. A boy picked it up and the
voice on the other line said "I am the Bloody Finger, and I am only 7
miles away." the kids were getting scared, but thought it was still the
prank caller, and tried calling parents again, but none of them would pick up.
Soon the phone rang again and the voice on the other line said "I am the
Bloody Finger, and I am only 5 miles away." By this time they were
starting to think it might not be a prank caller, because a prank caller would
have gave up by now. Soon the phone rang again and the voice on the other line
said "I am the Bloody Finger, and I am only 3 miles away." By this
point some of the kids hid in the basement. Soon the phone rang again and they
were really scared to answer, but a brave boy picked it up and the voice on the
other line said "I am the Bloody Finger, and I am only 1 mile away."
Soon all the kids were hiding in the basement and there was a knock on the
door. They didn't want to answer it and the person kept knocking for a long
time. Soon they decided it might be someone's parents, so they went upstairs
and opened the door. The man at the door said "I am the Bloody Finger, can
I get a band-aid?
Another
variant has the guy on the phone calling himself "the Viper," and
when he finally arrives, he's a guy with a squeegee and a bucket of water, and
he's come to "vipe their vindows."
A teenage
boy is getting ready to take his girlfriend to the prom. First he goes to rent
a tux, but there’s a long tux line at the shop and it takes forever. Next, he
has to get some flowers, so he heads over to the florist and there’s a huge
flower line there. He waits forever but eventually gets the flowers. Then he
heads out to rent a limo. Unfortunately, there’s a large limo line at the
rental office, but he’s patient and gets the job done. Finally, the day of the
prom comes. The two are dancing happily and his girlfriend is having a great
time. When the song is over, she asks him to get her some punch, so he heads
over to the punch table and there’s no punchline.
So there are
these two horses, Hobbin and Nobbin. Now, Hobbin's a long-time racing champ,
never been beaten, while Nobbin's the fresh-from-the-paddock upstart, eager to
prove himself. So Nobbin challenges Hobbin to a race, he's been eating his
horsey-oats, doing his horsey-situps, he's convinced he's ready. "I'm
faster than you, Hobbin," he says, "No, you're not," says
Hobbin. "Well, there's only one way to find out?" says Nobbin. "So
there is," says Hobbin. So they go out to the track and the dog waves the
flag and THEY'RE OFF! It's Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin neck-and-neck,
Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin neck-and-neck, Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin
neck-and-neck, HobbinNobbinHobbinNobbinneckandneck, and they cross the finish
line and Hobbin takes it by a nose! Well, Nobbin's furious. "I'll get you
next time, Hobbin!" he says, and he goes back to his stable, does his
horsey-training, eats his horsey-oats, does his horsey-situps, and a year later
he's ready to challenge Hobbin again. They go out to the racetrack and the dog
waves the flag and THEY'RE OFF! It's Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin neck-and-neck,
Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin neck-and-neck, Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin
neck-and-neck, HobbinNobbinHobbinNobbinneckandneck, and they cross the finish
line and Hobbin takes it by a nose! Nobbin's really mad this time, he's sure he
had Hobbin, but he won't stay beaten. "I'll get you next time,
Hobbin!" he says, and he goes back to his stable. He does his
horsey-training, eats his horsey-oats, does his horsey-situps, and a year later
he's ready to challenge Hobbin again. They go out to the racetrack and the dog
waves the flag and THEY'RE OFF! It's Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin neck-and-neck,
Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin neck-and-neck, Hobbin-Nobbin Hobbin-Nobbin
neck-and-neck, HobbinNobbinHobbinNobbinneckandneck, and they cross the finish
line and Hobbin takes it by a nose! [Feel free to do as many cycles of this as
your audience can stand]. Nobbin's beside himself, he's stamping his hooves and
prancing about, he's so mad his eyes are rolling and he's snorting and
neighing, and the starter dog gets down off his podium and comes over to the
two horses and says, "Look, guys, isn't there some other way to settle
this?" Hobbin and Nobbin look at each other and Hobbin goes "Holy
crap, a talking dog!"
During the
days when Native Americans were being forcibly and systematically removed from
their ancestral lands, a small band of Cherokee had managed to elude the U.S.
cavalry by using secret refuges in the Appalachian mountains. The only
advantages they had were a particularly brutal winter that made navigating the
mountains impossible for anyone without an intimate knowledge of them, and the
brilliant leadership of their cunning war chief, Black Wolf.
Now Black
Wolf was getting on in years, and he had never married or had any offspring. He
knew the time was coming for him to name a successor, and his intended
candidate was his nephew: Falling Rocks, so called because of the way he would
fall on the enemy with the fury of a rock slide. However, the other members of
the tribe would think that he favored Falling Rocks due to his kinship, rather
than merit. Some in the tribe would rather he name another brave, Tall Bear, to
be the new war chief. Tall Bear was perhaps the mightiest warrior in the tribe,
but he was brash and impulsive-- he had no mind for strategy, and won his
battles on brute force alone. Falling Rocks, however, was a tactician and
leader. He knew when to fight, when to flee, and when to try diplomacy. Black
Wolf knew that the future of his tribe depended on more than merely being a
skilled warrior.
To reconcile
the two sides, Black Wolf announced that the new war chief would be decided by
a test, and invited all who were interested to participate. Seven braves met
him atop a rocky peak, just as the spring thaw began to open the mountain
routes.
This is a
test to determine who shall be the new war chief, Black Wolf addressed the
assembled warriors, "You will walk in the direction of the setting sun,
and return. Whoever travels the farthest shall be my successor. This test has
no end-- only you can decide when you have traveled far enough."
The braves
pack their belongings and depart the camp that evening, with Tall Bear and
Falling Rocks racing to be the first through the pass. Despite being rivals,
there was no animosity between them. They had fought alongside each other many
times, and each felt that the other pushed him to his fullest potential.
After a few
days, one of the braves returned. "I saw a great village of the whites,
with more people than I ever knew lived on this world. It was heavily patrolled
by soldiers and I felt I could go no further."
A few weeks
pass, and another brave returns to the camp. "I visited vast lakes so
large I thought they were part of the ocean, but the water was fresh, not
salty. I encountered a great thunderous waterfall of tremendous power. At this
point, I felt I could go no further."
A month
passes, and the third brave makes his way back. "I saw a mighty river,
larger than any I had seen before. I could find no way to cross its muddy
waters, and was forced to turn back."
Another
month passes until another brave returns from his quest. "I made it to
vast plains, with no trees in sight. Mighty horned beasts grazed in herds
beyond counting. Their hooves shook the ground like thunder. I dared not risk
being lost to the anger of these creatures, and had to turn back.
Months pass,
and the fifth brave returns to the tribe. "On my travels I discovered
another range of mountains. Unlike ours, these were sharp and jagged, piercing
the sky with their height. I thought that this must be the backbone of the
world, but I could find no way to cross them, and could go no further.
Still,
neither Falling Rocks nor Tall Bear had returned, and the tribe had been
severely weakened without them. They could not access their hunting grounds,
which were now overrun with whites, and winter was once again threatening to
seize the mountains in ice. The elders of the tribe were pressuring Black Wolf
to name his successor now, because they could not survive waiting around for
anyone else to return. Black Wolf held out for as long as he could, every day
sitting on the peak where he had issued his challenge, watching the pass for
the return of his nephew. Finally, the rest of the tribe had had enough, and
demanded that he name the brave who most recently returned as war chief. Just
then, a lone figure staggered through the mountain pass, wrapped in buffalo
skins and holding some sort of strange shell. It was Tall Bear.
I walked
until I encountered another ocean. It was similar to ours, but I could tell it
was also quite different. The life that inhabits it was unlike what we catch in
our waters. However, I could find no way to go any further.
Black Wolf
knew that he couldn't wait for Falling Rocks any longer, and named Tall Bear
the new war chief, but every day he would go to the peak and watch the pass for
his nephew. Eventually the cold winter air struck him with an illness that he
knew he would not survive. Calling Tall Bear and the other braves to him, he
told them that he still knew in his heart that Falling Rocks was still alive,
and it was his dying wish to have the tribe always keep vigil for when he
returns. Tall Bear and the other braves swore to never stop waiting for their
brother in battle.
And that's
why, to this day, when traveling in those mountains, you can still see signs
that say "Watch for Falling Rocks"
A traveler
books to stay at a famed European hotel renowned for its ability to cater to
the most difficult and rare desires of its clientele. His bags are taken from
his limousine, he is shown through a lavish lobby with original Rubens oils
adorning the walls, through gold trimmed hallways to his room. The bellhop
shows him in and asks if he needs anything.
Yes, he
replies. "A blonde, blue-eyed virgin girl between the ages of 14 and 15
1/2, four pieces of braided - not wound! - cotton cord of precisely eight feet
in length, a cat-o-nine tails, and a Hungarian coachman with a dark complexion.
And please be quick about it, as I've had a long journey and need to
relax."
The bellhop
clicks his heels smartly says, "Right away sir!", and leaves with an
unhurried, but efficient air of purpose.
Ten minutes
later the phone rings. It's the hotel concierge. "The braided cotton cord
sir - would you prefer Egyptian or Persian cotton?"
Egyptian, of
course.
As I
suspected sir. Thank you.
Ten minutes
later there is a knock at the door. It's the hotel manager, and behind him are
the bellhop and the hotel concierge. All are wearing expressions of seriousness
and concern.
The manager
indicates the concierge with a nod and says, "Sir, we have been working to
fill your request. As you know, we pride ourselves on our ability to provide
any and all comforts to our guests and will stop at nothing to assure the best
of service. That being said, I feel obliged to update you on our progress.
"We
have located a young girl of the description you provided. She is fairly blonde
and blue eyed, but I must tell you very few ladies in our fair city reach the
age of 14 with their virginity intact. However, I assure you we have expended
considerable effort in procuring one of the rarer ones. I can report further
success in obtaining the cotton cord you require - I have personally ensured it
is not only braided and of the finest quality Egyptian cotton, but never before
touched by human hands. We have similarly availed ourselves of resources
sufficient to lay hands upon a cat-o-nine tails made by the very leather maker
who provides equestrian necessities to the royal heads of Europe.
However, I
am DEVASTATED to report that we have as yet been unable to locate a Hungarian
coachman with a dark complexion. We can, however, offer a Romanian coachman who
otherwise meets or exceeds your specifications in every way. Bearing in mind
that sir will of course receive no bill of any sort, owing to the unprecedented
and inexcusable excursion from our usual service, I wonder if this would be a
satisfactory substitution?"""
Never mind.
Just send up coffee and today's paper.
Joe, a
teenaged boy, gets his weekly allowance from his mother. He decides to go out
and treat himself to some ice cream. Half an hour later, he returns.
So Joe, what
did you do? asks his mother. Joe replies "I went out to the ice cream
parlor and bought myself an ice cream." "Oh, that's nice", says
his mother. "What flavor did you get?" Joe says
"Strawberry." Joe's mother explodes, "Strawberry?!? Why, you
little liar! Just wait until your father gets home!"
A few hours
later, Joe's father comes home. The mother says "You would not believe
what Joe told me. He needs to be punished." Joe's father says "OK,
calm down. Joe, what happened?"
Joe says
"Mom gave me my allowance, so I went out to the ice cream parlor and bought
myself an ice cream. Then I came home, and mom asked me what flavor of ice
cream I got. I told her, and she got really mad!"
Dad says
"Really? That's pretty unreasonable. Joe, you didn't do anything wrong.
You are not in trouble. By the way, what flavor did you get?"
"Strawberry." "You little son of a bitch! How dare you lie to
me? I'm so mad, I'm calling the cops!"
A few
minutes later, the cops arrive. "OK, son, tell us your side of the
story."
Joe says
"Mom gave me my allowance, so I went out to the ice cream parlor and
bought myself an ice cream. Then I came home, and mom asked me what flavor of
ice cream I got. I told her, and she got really mad! So when dad got home, I
told him what happened, and he got so mad that he called you! Are you going to
arrest me?"
The cops
glared at Joe's parents. "Sir, 911 is for serious emergencies only. We
don't have time to investigate petty complaints like these. Please do not waste
out time like this. Another call like this and we'll have to write you a ticket."
So I'm not
in trouble? asks Joe.
No, son,
you're not in trouble. By the way, what flavor ice cream did you get?
Strawberry.
On the
ground, NOW! Hands behind your head! Move it, scumbag! The cops procede to
taser the shit out of Joe.
Months
later, Joe is in court. The judge asks "What is this case about?" The
defense attorney begins "Your honor, my client is completely innocent. He
got his allowance from his mother, proceded to the ice cream parlor, had ice
cream, and returned home. Any reasonable person would conclude that this is a
perfectly reasonable course of action for any young man. And yet, he was
arrested, beaten, and tased by the arresting officers. We ask that all charges
be dropped. Furthermore, we ask that charges be brought against the arresting
officers."
The judge
asks the prosecution for his opening statement. "Your honor, the
prosecution has no case. We request that the case be dismissed."
The judge
addresses Joe. "Son, the state apologizes for any inconvenience that this
misunderstanding has caused. You are free to go."
Joe smiles,
gets up, and turns to leave the courthouse. The judge says "You're a good
boy. I like ice cream too. By the way, what flavor did you get." Joe
mumbles "Strawberry." "Boy, I could have you hanged for that! But
rope is too good for you. I never, ever, want to see you again. You are to
leave town, and never return. You disgust me. If you ever step foot in this
town again, I will personally see to it that you get the death penalty."
Completely
dejected, Joe leaves the courthouse. As he is crossing the street, he gets run
over by a reckless driver and killed.
The moral of
the story?
Look both
ways before you cross the street.
Bingo
Callers have pride in their work. Who knew? I didn't - that is until I met
Gérard Leahey, Bingo Caller.
He started
this career innocently enough, when called upon in grade school to call the
numbers in the bingo based game that is supposed to help kids with math. The
teacher, who would usually call the numbers, had a sore throat. Gérard found
that he could be charmingly entertaining while calling, without disrupting the
flow of the game.
Of course
this was long forgotten after high school. He enrolled in an art history in
college. While attending he chanced to be asked to help out at a charity fund
raiser. The fund raiser, you guessed it, was a bingo and he provided the
service of caller. He easily found his pace and it was generally agreed he was
the best caller the regulars had ever heard. One octogenarian suggested he work
weekends at the usual bingo hall she frequented.
It turns out
that good Bingo Callers are a sought after commodity. Your fair sized bingo
halls pay a good buck for "talent." That - plus tips - and Gérard
stumbled into a job that he thought at first would be merely jingle change.
These weekends he would develop his timing, his patter, his clever tagline
commentary "clickety-click, sixty-six" and the like. The proprietor
asked him to work full time. Art history classes became history.
After
several long years Gérard became somewhat of a celebrity - at least in the
small town in which he worked. He had stopped working weekends long ago in
favor of the weekdays and some evenings which featured younger, more
interactive crowds. Gérard was happy.
So it is not
without a bit of irony that what lead to Gérard's later difficulties occurred
at a charity function at the very venue where his career was launched (albeit
for a different charity). It was, however, a senior's function. While Gérard
felt obliged to help out, he did not look forward it.
And sure
enough, his trademark quick style and his banter was met with shouts of,
"Slow down, sonny!" and "Could you repeat that!" He was off
his game. He was restless and bored. Between each numbers he had to wait, and
wait, and wait while watching a sea of bobbing blue haired heads wave through
the room and the soft mooud, mooud of bingo dabbers. To keep his sanity between
numbers he would fidget. He called one number, then grab the next (as was his
custom) and while waiting to call the number in his hand he would toss the ball
into the air and catch it in his shirt pocket... catch it behind his back...
catch it in his teeth.
It was with
this last stunt that it happened. Just as he caught the ball in his teeth, a
little old lady in the table just in front of him yelled, "BINGO!"
with a force that startled him. He ulped, and swallowed the ball he had just
deftly caught. With all the attention on the winner, no one had noticed. Gérard
was not about to let such an incident affect his reputation, so he told no one.
He confirmed the winner, finished his duties for the evening, collected his pay
then quietly left.
But later
that evening it started. The nausea. The bloated feeling in his gut. The
discomfort while going to the bathroom. It was too much. The next day he was a
wreck.
So he went
to the emergency room. Not trusting doctor/patient confidentiality, Gérard
described his symptoms but did not explain the incident. He was too
embarrassed, to boot. The puzzled doctor took X-Rays. After examining them he
said to Gérard, "You have the strangest tumor I've ever seen. But don't
worry. It's benign."
That reminds
me of Levine. Good old Levine. You know Levine, right? Of course you do.
Everyone knows Levine.
There was
this one night when Levine was out at this bar. This guy Joe was standing at
the bar, and Levine tapped him on the shoulder and said "Hey, don't you
know who I am?" Joe said "No, why the hell should I?" Levine
said "I'm Levine. Everybody knows me." Joe said "Yeah, whatever,
buddy." Levine said "No, really. Everybody knows me. Hey everyone,
who am I?" Everyone in the bar shouted "Levine! Yay, Levine!"
Joe said
"Yeah, sure, maybe everyone in this bar knows you. But they don't know you
in any bars on the other side of town."
Levine said
"Sure they do. Everyone knows me." To prove it. Joe and Levine took a
cab across town and went into a different bar. When they walked in, Levine
shouted "Hey everyone, who am I?" Everone shouted "Levine! Yo,
Levine! Yay!"
Sure, Joe said.
"Average people in bars know you, but I bet the governor doesn't know
you." So off they went to the governor's mansion. The butler answered the
door. "Ah, Mr. Levine. The governor was just asking about you. Come on
in."
Joe said
"OK, so the governor knows you. I'd bet that the President doesn't know
you." So off they went to the White House.
Hours later
they were in the Oval Office. "So Levine, good buddy. It's been a long
time. What do you say we go out in my limo and pick up a couple of ugly chicks and
'feel their pain', heh heh heh?"
Alright,
says Joe. "Everyone in bars knows you. The governor knows you. The
President knows you. But I'm SURE that the Pope doesn't know you." So off
they went to Vatican City.
When they
got there, Levine said "Now Joe, not everyone gets to see the Pope. So
here's what we're going to do. I'll go in, and I'll get the Pope to walk around
with me in that balcony up there. Then you'll see that the Pope knows who I
am."
Levine
walked into the Vatican. A few minutes later, he and the Pope were on the
balcony. He looked down, and saw Joe passed out. He ran downstairs and ot the
door. "Joe, Joe! You OK, Joe?" Joe revived. "Joe, what happened?
Did you faint?"
Joe said
"Yeah, I guess I did. I was standing here, looking at you and the Pope,
when a couple of nuns came by and asked 'Hey, who's that up there with
Levine?'"
Guy goes in
to the doctor and says, "Doc, I'm feeling kind of run down. Just don't
have any energy, no get-up-and-go."
The doc
gives him an exam, and finds nothing particularly noteworthy.
So, he
starts asking about his lifestyle and diet. "What did you have for
breakfast this morning?"
The man
replied, "snooker balls, just like every morning." (This joke was
told to me by an Englishman, and so "snooker" it is, not
"pool".)
Snooker
balls! What kind?
Well, this
morning, I had a red one, a purple one, and a blue stripe. I also like the
yellows, the oranges, and sometimes the black one, when I'm in the mood.
The doc
smiles, and says, "I think I know what the problem is."
What,
doctor?
You're not
getting enough greens.
It's Germany
in 1943. Ira is sneaking home through the back alleyways of Warsaw to get home
from Temple. Suddenly, he's confronted by Hitler himself.
Hitler pulls
a gun and says, "Ha! A Jew! I'm going to kill you personally. But before I
do, I want to have some fun with you. See that pile of dog shit? Eat some of
it."
Ira has no
choice so he starts to eat some of the dog shit. Hitler begins to laugh so hard
that he drops the gun. Thinking quickly, Ira picks it up. "Ha! Hitler! I'm
going to kill you personally. But before I do, I want to have some fun with
you. See that pile of dog shit? Eat some of it."
Hitler has
no choice so he starts to eat some of the dog shit. Ira begins to laugh so hard
that he drops the gun. Thinking quickly, Hitler picks it up. But too late. Ira
has run away.
When Ira
gets home, his wife is mad. "Where have you been?"
Ira smiles.
"Honey, you won't believe who I just had lunch with!"
When I was
stationed in Sicily in the 80s, there was a dependent wife who went to the
doctor for continuous heart burn and upset stomach. She was of the more Zaftig
body type, and at the appointment found out she was seven months pregnant.
She was
airlifted to a hospital in Germany, and gave birth almost six weeks
prematurely. The baby was fine, except for the fact that he was born with no
eyelids.
With gauze
on his eyes to keep them moist, the doctor decided to try a new skin graft
therapy utilizing the foreskin to shape eyelids and tendons from the fingers to
allow the child to blink.
There was a
follow story about two weeks ago in the Stars and Stripes. He has just
graduated from college, and is off to med school, a perfectly healthy normal
looking, even handsome young man.
Of course,
he's still a litlle cock eyed.
My uncle
lives next door to a crazy cat lady. This woman has tons and tons of cats, but
her favorite cat is this ugly little hairless cat that follows her around
everywhere.
One day my uncle
was using a weed eater on the edges of his lawn when the hairless cat jumped
out of the bushes and ran right under his feet. My uncle nearly fell over but
managed to catch hold of the fence and right himself…but the cat wasn’t so
lucky…the weed eater had sliced the cat’s tail clean off.
My uncle, of
course, felt terrible about this and knowing that it was crazy cat lady’s
favorite cat, he spent some time chasing the wounded cat around the yard and
finally trapped it in the garage and managed to carry it and its severed tail
over to crazy cat lady’s house.
Crazy cat
lady was very upset and since she didn’t drive my uncle offered to do whatever
he could including driving her and the cat to the veterinarian’s office. Crazy
Cat Lady agreed and they ran to the car and started off. They were heading to
the nearest vet’s office when the lady grabbed my Uncle’s arm and yelled, “Where
are you going!? You’re going the wrong way!”
“No,” said
my uncle, “The nearest vet is just a block over in this direction.”
“But Wal-mart
is the other way!” cried the Crazy Cat Lady.
“Wal-mart?”
questioned my uncle, “How can you think of going shopping at a time like this?
I’ll take you shopping after the vet takes care of the cat.”
“We have to
go to Wal-mart” sobbed Crazy Cat Lady.
“Why?” asked
my uncle.
“Because they are the world’s largest
retailer!”
My friend
had a few ones- I'm going to summerize to make them less painful. One was about
a guy staying in a hotel room at the top of a 99-step stairway. He brings his luggage
up the steps, one, two, three, four, etc. The next morning he drags his luggage
down the 99 steps (again, count every single one of them), eats a bowl of
Cheerios, and leaves.
The next day
another guy checks into the room at the top of the stairs, up 99 steps, etc,
comes down 99 etc, eats a bowl of Cheerios, and leaves.
Nest day, a
third guy... well, you know how it goes. Upstairs, downstairs, Froot Loops,
leaves.
The moral of
the story? "Two out of three people chose Cheerios for breakfast."
Another
hotel story had a guy trying to check into Room 19. The manager tells him that
room is only for rabbis, but it's the only room vacant and the guy insists. So
the manager says, "Okay, but whatever you do, don't open the closet."
The man checks in, hears scary noises from the closet in the middle of the
night, and gets the heck outta there in the morning. Then another guy tries to
check into Room 19... same deal. Maybe you can even throw a third guy the next
day, if you want to drag it out.
Then a rabbi
comes in. The manager says, "Here's the key to Room 19. Just don't tell
any non-rabbi what's in the closet." Rabbi beds down, goes to sleep, and
wakes up in the middle of the night because there are funny noises coming from
the closet. He gets up, opens the door, and faints away.
At this
point, you pause and act like the joke's over, until your listener says,
"So, what was in the closet?" And you say, "I can't tell you.
You're not a rabbi."
About a week
later, another man came to see the priest. He looked just like the first man,
including the fact that he had no arms.
I understand
that my twin brother was here last week and met an unfortunate demise, the man
said. "It was always his ambition to be a bell ringer at a great
cathedral, and I appreciate you giving him a chance."
Since he was
unable to fulfill his lifetime goal, I insist that you let me have the job in
his honor, said the man.
Well, said
the priest, "You can try if you wish, but I must warn you it's very
dangerous. That's how your brother died."
But the man
insisted, and they went up to the bell tower. This time, the armless man was
able to ring five of the bells and the resulting melody enchanted everyone who
heard it. But as he was attempting the sixth bell, he too slipped and fell to
his death.
Again, the
priest rushed downstairs, and again the crowd asked, "Who is this
man?"
This time,
the priest replied,
.
He never
told me his name, but he's a dead ringer for his brother.
A traveler
was headed down a lonely road when it began to rain. Luckily he happened upon a
monastery just off the side of the road. He knocked on the door and was greeted
by one of the monks. He asked if he could stay the night, to which the monk
replied that their order would gladly shelter him, as long as he stayed out of
the tower with no doors.
As he
settled down for the night he suddenly heard an ungodly noise coming from the
tower the monk mentioned, a cross between screaming and the wind on aluminum
foil. Then suddenly it stopped and he soon fell asleep. He awoke refreshed and
asked one of the monks about the sound, but the monk replied that only monks of
their monastery may know what is in the tower.
He thanked the
monks for their hospitality and went on his way. About a year later he returned
to the monastery and asked about becoming a monk. The head monk replied that if
he would aid the monastery in small ways they would consider him. So for the
next five years he helped tend the gardens, clean the windows, and learn of the
monks' religion. He even once helped them recover a holy relic to be housed in
the monastery.
Eventually
the head monk told the traveler he was ready to become a monk and initiated
him. The monks recited a prayer for such an occasion and provided him with a
robe of their brotherhood, and the head monk said it was time to see what was
in the tower. The head monk led the new initiate down into the catacombs,
deeper and deeper until the head monk found and pressed a loose brick. This
opened a secret passage leading to a spiral stair.
Up, up they
went. Their legs grew tired until the head monk opened a trap door leading to a
room surrounded with ivy covered trellises. They were inside the tower now. The
head monk opened a door leading to another spiral staircase leading to the room
at the very top of the tower.
The head
monk pulled out a key and unlocked the wooden door, pulling it aside to reveal
a rusty iron door. The door clattered as the head monk pulled it open, and
behind it was a titanium door. The head monk pressed a six digit PIN on a panel
on the door and it slid open.
The room was
at first too dark to see anything. The head monk flipped a switch and a dim
light bulb flickered on. Finally the traveler saw with his own eyes the source
of that mysterious sound which he had spent all those years laboring to
discover.
But I can't tell you
what it was, because you're not a monk
Sam Clam and
Larry lobster were the best of friends living at the bottom of the ocean. They
were practically inseparable, which explains how they both got caught in a
lobster trap together and died together.
Larry
Lobster found himself at the Gates of Heaven talking to Peter.
Larry,
welcome to Eternity. Here you will be eternally happy before God.
Larry was
overwhelmed by the glorious sights, but one thought crept in, "Peter, I am
overjoyed to be allowed the glories of the Kingdom of Heaven, but where is my
friend Sam Clam. I wish to be with him at this happy time."
Peter
looking a bit puzzled started paging through a large book. After a few minutes
he closed that book and pulled out an even larger, thicker black book. Finally
he stopped and stabbed at the page, "Ah-ha! Sam Clam is in Hell."
Hell? asked
Larry Lobster, incredulously. "There must be some mistake, Sam and I were
together all the time. How could I and not..."
Peter cut
him off, "Apparently Sam lied once and once had an impure thought. Please,
Sam is not worthy of you or of this place. Take pleasure in all of the
glory."
Can I at
least visit Sam and say goodbye?
A horrified
Peter responded, "Of course not! You cannot visit Hell, you are in heaven.
Please Larry, go get your robe, wings, and harp and take refuge in the beauty
which awaits you."
Larry
acquiesced to Peter, but he remained despondent and sad, despite being in
Heaven and all it promised. Larry frequently requested the opportunity to visit
his friend Sam Clam. Each time Peter rebuffed him. Larry's depression was so
extreme that others in Heaven were not enjoying the afterlife as they had been
promised. Eventually God heard of this and summoned Peter.
Peter, what
is wrong with Larry Lobster? And Peter explained. "Did you tell him it was
not reasonable to go to Hell once you had attained Heaven?" And Peter
explained that he had. "Then I guess we must make an exception, under
certain conditions..." and God explained to Peter what Peter explained to
Larry.
Larry you
may go to Hell to visit your friend, Sam Clam. However, you must return before
the clock strikes twelve, you must not damage or lose your three Holy
possessions: your robe, your wings, or your harp. Do you understand?
Oh yes, yes,
thank you! Thank you! and with that Larry rushed down to Hell to visit Sam
Clam.
When he got
there he was startled to see Sam Clam running a disco. People were dancing and
drinking and it was dark so Larry could not find Sam right away. Then from
behind he heard "Larry Lobster is that you? I thought you were in
Heaven?"
Larry turned
around and saw his old friend Sam Clam, dressed to the nines, "Sam I just
came to visit and to finally say goodbye."
The two of
them talked and reminisced for hours. Larry was enjoying himself immensely,
totally oblivious to the time when Sam Clam said "You had better go, it is
almost time"
But I want
to stay here...
No Larry,
this is not your place. There are things here I won't mention. Go back to
Heaven and be happy.
So with
tears in their eyes they said their good-byes. Larry rushed up to Heaven and
reached the Gates just as the clock struck twelve. Peter was waiting.
Larry, you
barely made it, said Peter.
I know but
I...
And your
robe is filthy, said a disgusted Peter.
I can
explain, you see...
And your
wings! One is ripped and the other is practically fallen off, chastised Peter.
Funny you
should mention that, because...
And your
harp, Larry, where is your harp? asked a disappointed Peter.
Oh dear,
answered Larry, "I left my harp in Sam Clam's Disco."
I was once
driving a truckload of cough syrup across the desert. I'm a bit of an addict so
I grabbed a bottle to swig on as I drove. As night fell I heard a bang and
realized one of my tires had blown; since it was too dark to see well enough to
fix the tire I decided to find shelter for the night.
I remembered
seeing a cabin back down the road aways. Grabbing my cough syrup and stashing
it in my pocket I walked back towards it. When I reached it I knocked on the
door but no one answered, so finally I broke in through a window. It was
obvious no one had lived there in years.
I pulled out
my cigarette lighter and managed to get a fire going in the fire place. So
warm! It was the perfect place to spend a lonely night.
Then I heard
a noise. I looked up and saw it--a coffin floating towards me. I jumped up and
ran to another room of the cabin but the coffin followed me.I dodged the coffin
and ran to another room but it still kept following me while making this
hideous moaning noise.
I must have
run around that cabin for an hour. By then I was completely exhausted and
thinking I was doomed. Then I remembered something.
I pulled my
bottle of cough syrup out of my pocket and took a swig.
And the
coffin stopped.
Jeffery is a
young man growing up in a small midwestern town. He's a bit of a mama's boy,
bookish and overly sensitive, but basically a nice guy. One day the circus
comes to town. Everyone in town is excited. There's not a lot to do there, and
this story takes place in the mid-century, before the internet or satellite TV.
The circus
sells out, but Jeffery makes sure to get a good seat. He's a few rows back from
the front.
The circus
starts with a clown act. A couple of clowns run out, telling jokes and engaging
in tomfoolery. Suddenly, one of the clowns points at Jeffery.
You sir,
would you mind standing up please
Me?
Yes, sir,
please stand up.
Jeffery
stands.
Well, says
the clown, "I see the horse's ass, but where's the rest of the
horse?"
The whole
audience erupts in laughter, but Jeffery is mortified and humiliated. He runs
out of the circus and back to his house where he sits in shame and cries.
After a few
months he's reading a magazine and notices an ad. "School for witty
retorts." Hm, maybe this will help me be less sensitive he thinks. So he
applies for the course, even though it's pretty expensive. He sends money in
and gets a few worksheets.
This goes on
for a while until he gets a letter from the school. "Sir, I have to
confess that my school is basically a scam. I'm not qualified to give degrees
in witty retorts. However I've noticed that you really have a talent for this.
I feel bad taking your money. I've still got a few contacts in the legit retort
world, and I'd like to recommend you for a spot in U Penn's school of witty
retorts."
So Jeffery
goes to Penn's program, one of the more highly regarded schools of witty
retorts in the country. His professors are amazed by his talent. He gets
straight A's without working too hard and is accepted into Stanford's graduate
school of witty retorts. Even before he gets his PhD in witty retorts his
reputation spreads. He is consulted by businessmen and politicians. Even the
pope sends a discreet emissary to get tips on dealing with a couple of
obstreperous cardinals.
After graduation
his consulting business takes off. He spends a lot of time travelling, but
returns to live in his home town, as it's familiar and he can be close to his
mother. He's a bit of a local celebrity, but is very modest about his
achievements.
One day he
sees that the circus is coming to town; the same circus that humiliated him a
dozen years earlier. He makes sure he gets the same seat he had before. The
circus again sells out. Again the same clowns open the show. They don't seem to
recognize him. (although he has a bit of fame, he is discreet and rarely
photographed.) Again they ask him to stand.
Well, says
the clown, "I see the horse's ass, but where's the rest of the
horse?"
The whole
town turns and looks at Jeffery, eagerly waiting for his reply. Jeffery takes a
deep breath and in a clear distinct voice says “Fuck You, Clown!”
A couple go
to a movie and find that a few seats to their right is a man and his dog. The
dog seemed well behaved enough so they didn't call an usher to complain. They
watch the movie and notice that during the action scenes, the dog is on the
edge of his seat, watching intently. During the the happy scenes, the dog
wagged his tail happily. In the sad scenes, the dog would whimper. And in the
scary scenes, the dog hid under the seat. When the movie was over, the couple
approached the dog owner. The wife said "We can't believe how much your
dog enjoyed the movie." The dog's owner replied "Me either. He didn't
like the book."
I can't
believe nobody has told the one that "shaggy dog" stories are named
after.
There once
was a man who led a lonely life. He had no wife or children, and no living
relatives. He worked the night shift as a lighthouse keeper, so he had no
co-workers or friends. He thought the loneliness would kill him, so one day he
decided to get a dog to keep him company. He went down the lighthouse steps and
opened the door, and lo and behold, there was a dog sitting there. The man
brought the dog into the lighthouse, fed him, bathed him, and cleaned him up;
the dog thumped his tail on the floor and panted with a dog's grin, and the man
knew he'd found his companion.
The next
day, the man brought the dog into town to have him checked out by the local
vet, just to make sure he didn't have anything wrong with him health-wise. The
vet took one look at the dog and said, "WOW! This dog is the shaggiest dog
I've ever seen in my life. I've seen some shaggy dogs in my time, but this one
takes the cake. You know what you should do? You should enter this dog in the
"Shaggiest Dog In Town" contest they're having this weekend."
The vet gave
the man a flyer advertising the contest, and the man decided to do it. He
brought the dog to the park where the contest was being held and entered him.
There were a lot of shaggy dogs at the contest, and the judges were all arguing
about which dog should win, until they saw the lighthouse keeper's dog.
"Holy moly!" the first judge said. "That's one seriously shaggy
dog!" the second judge looked at the dog with amazement and said, "I
agree. I've never seen such a shaggy dog anywhere. I think we have a
winner." the third judge agreed, "You guys have nailed it - none of
these other dogs are even close to being as shaggy as this one." They
awarded the blue ribbon to the man's dog, gave him $100 in prize money, and
told him about the "Shaggiest Dog In the State" contest the following
weekend.
The man
takes the dog to the State contest, and after a whole lot of exclamations about
how shaggy the dog is, they award him the blue ribbon and $1,000 in prize
money, and tell him about the "Shaggiest Dog In the U.S." contest in
Washington, DC, the following weekend. The man's dog wins that one too, takes
the blue ribbon and $10,000 in prize money, and they tell him about the
"Shaggiest Dog in the World" contest in the Pyrenees the following
weekend. It costs him all the prize money he's won so far to get there, but he
does it. The day of the contest arrives, with a cool million in prize money at
stake. The man and his dog wait all morning. Finally the judge arrives and
looks at the dog. He turns to the man and says,
"This dog
doesn't look that shaggy to me."
One day,
Harry came upon a big, long ladder that stretched into the clouds. He'd walked
this way every day and this ladder was never there before. Curious and brave,
he began to climb.
Eventually,
he climbed into the layer of clouds and saw this rather large, homely woman
lying there on a cloud.
She spoke,
"Take me now or climb the ladder to success!"
Harry
figured success had to be better than this, so he continued climbing. He came
upon another level of clouds, and found a thinner, cuter woman than before.
She also
spoke, "Take me now or climb the ladder to success!"
Harry saw
that his luck was changing and so continued his climb.
On another
level of clouds, he found a rather attractive woman with not so bad of a
figure. She stated, "Take me now or climb the ladder to success!"
Harry really
liked his advantage now!
He climbed
quickly and deftly, and sure enough, on the next level, he found a gorgeous,
lithe, well-endowed woman lying seductively on the cloud.
Take me now
or climb the ladder to success, she huskily whispered.
Harry
couldn't believe his eyes, but his greed once again caught the best of him.
He climbed
to the next level, and sure enough, on the next level, two gorgeous, lithe,
well-endowed women lying seductively on the cloud.
Take us now
or climb the ladder to success, they huskily whispered.
Harry
couldn't believe his eyes, but his greed once again caught the best of him.
He climbed
to the next level, and sure enough, on the next level, three gorgeous, lithe,
well-endowed women lying seductively on the cloud. The most beautiful he had
ever seen.
Take us now
or climb the ladder to success, they huskily whispered.
Harry
couldn't believe his eyes, but his greed once again caught the best of him.
(...)
[Make it go
on and on and on with women in ever-increasing numbers with ever-increasing
charms until the audience shows signs of exasperation]
(...)
Suddenly,
the ladder ends, and a latch closes behind him.
He looks
over to see a 400-pound, 6'8" hairy biker looking guy with tattoos,
foul-smelling, covered with flies. The biker gets up and walks menacingly
toward Harry.
Apprehensively,
Harry whispers, "Who are you?"
The biker
answers, “I’m Cess.”
The Rairie
was the most feared animal in all the land--killed people, ravaged livestock,
trashed whole towns, you name it. The king had finally had enough, so a contest
was held to find the most deserving knight to kill the Rairie. The contest was
held, the knight selected, he was sent on his mission. Unfortunately, as the
knight snuck up on the sleeping beast to claim its head, he tripped and stabbed
it in the tail, instantly waking it. Enraged, the monster chased the knight day
in and day out, over hill and dale, until the Rairie cornered the knight at the
edge of the highest cliff overlooking the sea. The knight drew his sword as the
beast charged, but dropped it, fell to one side and covered his head, waiting
for the fatal blow. Which never came--the monster tripped on the sword and
plunged over the cliff to die in the sea.
The knight
returned to his king to relate the good news. The king exclaimed, "You
have been away for weeks, tell me your tale." The knight told it all,
ending with the accidental stumbling and death of the creature, and his
300-mile trek back to his lord.
To which the
king said, "That's a long way to trip a Rairie."
It was a
sweltering August day in 1937 when the Cohen brothers entered the posh
Dearborn, Michigan, offices of Henry Ford, the car maker. "Mr. Ford,"
announced Norman Cohen, the eldest of the three. "We have a remarkable
invention that will revolutionize the automobile industry."
Ford looked
skeptical, but their threat to offer it to the competition kept his interest
piqued. "We would like to demonstrate it to you in person." After a
little cajoling, they brought Mr. Ford outside to a black automobile parked in
front of the building.
Hyman Cohen,
the middle brother, opened the door of the car. "Please step inside, Mr.
Ford."
What!
shouted the tycoon, "Are you crazy? It must be two hundred degrees in that
car!"
It is,
smiled the youngest brother, Maxwell, "but sit down and push the white
button."
Intrigued,
Ford pushed the button. All of a sudden, a whoosh of freezing air started
blowing from vents all around the car. Within seconds, the automobile was not
only comfortable, but quite cool.
This is
amazing! exclaimed Ford. "How much do you want for the patent?"
Norman spoke
up, "The price is one million dollars." Then he paused. "And
there is something else: The name 'Cohen Brothers Air-Conditioning' must be
stamped right next to the Ford logo."
Money is no
problem, retorted Ford, "but no way will I have a Jewish name next to my
logo on my cars!"
They haggled
back and forth for a while and finally they settled. Five million dollars, but
the Cohens' name would be left off. However, the first names of the Cohen
brothers would be forever emblazoned upon the console of every Ford air
conditioning system.
And that is
why, even today, whenever you enter a Ford vehicle, you will see those three
names clearly printed on the air conditioning control panel:
NORM HI MAX
This was
originally a story by Isaac Asimov. I don't remember the content exactly, but
I'll reconstruct it as best I can.
Ray
Silverstein was the human attache to Qikblamefar, an alien ambassador from the
planet Sortibakenstrete. Since the name is rather long and unwieldy for a human
tongue, aliens from Sortibakenstrete were called Foys. After a long and
distinguished career as a diplomat, Qikblamefar had to retire due to declining
health. He wished to return to the Foy world to die, but no space ship was fast
enough to make it in time.
Foys had
certain physical differences from humans, the chief being that Foys had five
hearts. A doctor named Maude Ramirez specialized in alien diseases, and
determined that Qikblamefar's illness resulted from his hearts enlarging. She
had wanted to obtain Qikblamefar's hearts for study after he passed, but the
Foy ambassador refused.
Ray knew the
reason for Qikblamefar's refusal stemmed from a Foy taboo, and looked for ways
to change the ambassador's mind. He learned that Foys had a strong belief in
the power of music, stemming from a time when Foy warriors fought far from
home. Their comrades would form a choir around the mortally wounded, and the
power of their song would return the soldier back to his home. If Ray could
arrange for a grand musical send-off, maybe Qikblamefar would consent to Dr.
Ramirez harvesting his hearts.
Ray
contacted Harold Fortenheimer, leader of the world famous Fortenheimer Choir.
The singing group had performed in front of audiences on all seven continents
and were beloved universally. Upon hearing Ray's story, Harold Fortenheimer
said he would be glad to arrange for the choir to perform at Qikblamefar's
send-off.
So, the
Fortenheimer Choir, Dr. Ramirez, and other notables were put on notice to
attend Qikblamefar's death, which was due to happen any moment now. However,
Ray still had not formally received permission from the Foy ambassador, and
waited patiently for Qikblamefar to come to a decision.
The call
finally came in. Ray saw Qikblamefar on the monitor screen in his deathbed,
weak and barely able to speak. However, he had made his decision. "Give my
big hearts to Maude, Ray. Dismember me to Harold's Choir. And tell all the Foys
on Sortibakenstrete that I will soon be there."
An oldie but
goodie from The National Lampoon
A man walks
into a nightclub with a beautiful girl on his arm
The show
begins and the comedian comes out for his first show of the evening
The comedian
says "A man walks into a nightclub with a beautiful girl on his arm
The show
begins and the comedian comes out for his second show of the evening.
The show
begins and the comedian says "A man walks into a nightclub with a
beautiful girl on his arm"
Just then a
man in the front row stands up and says "I think I've heard this
before"
The comedian
says "Well maybe you caught my first show of the evening"
The man says
"No, I just walked in here"
The comedian
says "Well it was a guy looked just like you walked in with a beautiful
girl on his arm could have been your twin brother"
The man says
"My twin brother's dead"
The comedian
says "What is this, a wake?"
The man says
"I don't have to stand for this"
And he
stands up and he walks outside
And the
comedian says "Are you out there? I can hear you breathing."
The man says
"I'm holding my breath"
The comedian
says "Well I'm holding you wife"
Just then
the man says "That's not my wife"
And he walks
back into the nightclub with another beautiful girl on his arm
Who's that
lady I'm seeing you with the comedian says
The man says
"This is my wife. That other lady is my dead twin brother's wife
You can take
her if you want her"
And the
comedian says "Not unless you say please"
Just then, a
man walks into a nightclub with a tatoo of a beautiful girl on his arm eating
elbow macaroni.
The comedian
says "Is that girl from Italy?"
The man says
"No just hungry"
Just then a
man walks into the nightclub, he comes riding into the nightclub, on a pony,
with a feather stuck into his hat
What do you
call that? the comedian asks
An entrance
the man says "But forget that"
Just give me
a beer and give my pony a jockey"
The
bartender says "I think that pony's had enough already"
Well make it
a short jockey the man says
And while
you're at it give that lady's lawyer some briefs
The lady
stands up and says "I can defend myself, your Honor"
And the
lawyer says "But I'll defend her honor, your Honor"
The judge
says "Well on her or off her, make up your mind"
The comic
says "Definitely on her, that's the best offer I've had all day"
Well take it
or leave it says the Judge
Couldn't we
just drop it? says the comedian
He says
"You better drop leaflets before you bomb"
And the
comedian says "I'm already bombing"
He says
"Maybe it's your material"
He says
"You don't think it fits?"
He says
"Well it could be let out a little"
The comedian
says "How much do you think it will cost me?"
He says
"It'll cost you an arm and a leg"
The comic
says "Well listen, could you put it on the cuff?"
The tailor
says "I'll tell you what I'll do. We'll forget the leg and I'll just
charge you an arm"
And a
beautiful arm it is
OK says the
comedian and the tailor cuts off the comedian's arm and gives him the suit
The tailor
calls his girlfriend and asks her to go out on the town with him in order to
celebrate
He calls on
his girlfriend and gives her the beautiful arm as a gift
She wears it
around her neck just like a stole and they go out on the town
The man
walks into a nightclub with a beautiful arm on his girl
The show
begins and the one-armed comedian comes out for his last show of the evening.
He does his
act, and the audience stands up and gives him a hand
The world
expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make is taking a stroll down
his local town. As he passes by the record shop, a sign catches his eye:
"Just Released - New LP - Wasps of the World and the sounds that they make
- available now"
Unable to
resist the temptation, the man goes into the shop.
I am the
world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make. I'd very much
like to listen to the new LP you have advertised in the window.
Certainly,
Sir, says the young man behind the counter. "If you'd like to step into
the booth and put on the headphones, I'll put the LP on for you."
The world
expert on European wasps goes into the booth and puts on the earphones. Three
minutes later, he comes out of the booth and announces, "I am the world
expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make and yet I recognised
none of those."
I'm very
sorry Sir, says the young assistant. "If you'd care to step into the booth
again, I can play you have another track."
The world
expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make steps back into the
booth and replaces the headphones.
Three
minutes later, he comes out of the booth shaking his head. "I don't
understand it", he says, "I am the world expert on European wasps and
the sounds that they make, and yet I still can't recognise any of those!"
I'm terribly
sorry, Sir says the young man, "perhaps if you'd like to step into the
booth again, you could hear another track."
Sighing, the
world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make steps back into
the booth. Five minutes later, he comes out again, clearly agitated.
I am the
world expert on European wasps and the sounds that they make and yet I have
recognized none of the wasps on this LP.
I really am
terribly sorry, says the young assistant,
I've just
realized I was playing you the bee side.
There were
three rabbits, Foot, Foot Foot, and Foot Foot Foot (rabbits are not very imaginative
when it comes to names).
One morning
Foot Foot Foot woke up first and hopped to the burrow entrance where he saw
that it was a beautiful summer morning. He went to the kitchen and prepared
breakfast, then woke up Foot and Foot Foot.
Come on
fellows, it's a beautiful day, breakfast is ready, let’s plan our day.
As they ate
breakfast they discussed what to do. Foot Foot Foot suggested a relaxing day
fishing, Foot Foot preferred the thought of a trip to the beach and Foot wanted
to go for a picnic. As they all wanted to do something different they decided
to cut cards for it, highest card wins. Foot went first and drew a queen, Foot
Foot drew a seven and Foot Foot Foot drew an eight: picnic it was.
Foot, Foot
Foot and Foot Foot Foot went about the preparations. Foot cut the bread for
sandwiches, Foot Foot prepared the fillings and Foot Foot Foot put them
together. There were cocktail sausages, pork pie, quiche, and pickles from the
larder, and cake for later. They hard boiled a few eggs and were ready to go.
Foot, Foot
Foot and Foot Foot Foot hopped across the meadow outside their burrow, along
the side of the small stream, over the bridge and up the hill on the other side
to the small copse of trees on the top. There they played until they were
hungry, then fell on the picnic with great gusto. Foot Foot, who was a large
rabbit with an appetite to go with it, ate so much he had to loosen his
buttons. Foot ate almost as much as Foot Foot, and being a smaller rabbit felt
even more bloated. Foot Foot Foot on the other hand didn’t have as much of an
appetite as the others and although he enjoyed the picnic felt simply satisfied
when it was over rather than bloated.
After such a
wonderful meal Foot, Foot Foot and Foot Foot Foot has a little snooze, waking
as the sun began to set. They packed up their picnic basket and set off home
well satisfied with their day out. Part way home, just after crossing back over
the stream, Foot complained of feeling a little sick. As they walked on Foot
became paler and paler and walked slower and slower; Foot Foot and Foot Foot
Foot, who had little sympathy for Foot at first, became worried about him and
eventually really concerned as Foot started to sweat and shiver, and began
talking incoherent gibberish.
When they
got home they put Foot to bed and called the doctor. Before the doctor arrived
Foot gave a strangled sigh and stopped breathing. When he got there the doctor
examined the body of Foot and declared that it looked as though he had been
poisoned: probably something he ate! This worried Foot Foot and Foot Foot Foot
as they had all eaten the same things: would they be poisoned too?
Sadly, Foot
Foot and Foot Foot Foot took the body of Foot out of the burrow to the
traditional burial site of the rabbits. Here the three friends had reserved a
large plot where they would all three be interred, together as they had been in
life. They had even joked that once they were all dead they would collectively
be “six foot under”. Foot Foot and Foot Foot Foot dug a grave for their friend
and buried him with all the reverence they could manage. It was a sad Foot Foot
and Foot Foot Foot who went to bed that night, especially after such a joyful
day out.
In the early
hours of the morning Foot Foot Foot was woken by moaning coming from Foot Foot’s
bed. He turned on the light and went to his friend. Foot Foot looked quite pale
and Foot Foot Foot had difficulty waking him. When he woke Foot Foot complained
of feeling sick. Fortunately the doctor had left some medicine just in case the
death of Foot had been caused by something in the picnic, so Foot Foot Foot
gave Foot Foot a dose, but it appeared to do little good.
Soon Foot
Foot, in much the same way as had happened to Foot, began to sweat and shiver.
When he started to mutter and ramble Foot Foot Foot could not contain his
anxiety and grabbing Foot Foot by the paw begged him
“Don’t, oh
please, don’t you die on me too: I’ve already got one foot in the grave!”
A man is
taking a walk in Central park in New York. Suddenly he sees a little girl being
attacked by a pit bull dog. He runs over and starts fighting with the dog. He
succeeds in killing the dog and saving the girl's life.
A policeman
who was watching the scene walks over and says, 'You are a hero, tomorrow you
can read it in all the newspapers, 'Brave New Yorker saves the life of little
girl'.
The man
says, 'But I am not a New Yorker!'
'Oh ,then it
will say in newspapers in the morning, "Brave American saves life of
little girl",' the policeman answers.
'But I am
not an American!' says the man.
'Oh, what
are you then?'
'The man
says: - 'I am a Saudi!'
The next day
the newspapers says, 'Islamic extremist kills innocent American dog.'
Once upon a
time, Clara and Jenny were talking when Clara asks Jenny how many times she's
been married, and the reply was 4.
'Four
times!' exclaims Clara, 'why so many?'
So Jenny
replies, 'Well, I first got married when I was very young, and I married this
wonderful man who was a banker. However, one day just a few weeks after we were
married, his bank was robbed and he was shot and killed.'
'Oh my word,
that's terrible,' Clara said.
'Well, it
wasn't that tragic. Soon after that, I started seeing another man who performed
in the circus. He was really a great guy, but he lived pretty dangerously
because he performed his high-wire act without a net. Well, a few weeks after
we got married, he was performing a show and suddenly a gust of wind came by
and knocked him off his wire and he was killed.'
'Your second
husband was killed too? That's horrible.'
'Yes, it was
terrible, but at the funeral I fell in love with the minister and we got
married soon after that. Unfortunately, one Sunday while he was walking to
church, he was hit by a car and killed.'
'Three?
Three husbands of yours were killed? How could you live through all that?'
'It was
pretty tough, but then I met my present husband. And he's a wonderful man. I
think we'll live a long happy life together.'
'And what
does your present husband do for a living?' Clara enquires.
'He's a
mortician,' responds Jenny.
'A
mortician? I don't understand something here. First you marry a banker, then a
circus performer, then a minister, and now a mortician? Can you explain such a
diverse grouping of husbands?'
'Well, if
you think about it it's not too hard to understand..........Well it's
One for the
money...
Two for the
show...
Three to get
ready...
And four to
go ........
May 5, 1863
-- Here on the frontier, I sometimes wonder if the ancients were right. With no
other friendly face within 150 miles, it seems as if I _have_ fallen off the
edge of the Earth.
I spend my
time now reading what books I have and cultivating my patch of cucumbers (which
I brought back from the Holy Land, cf. _Prince_of_Thieves_). The
"purpose" of this fort, to hold back the Indians, has fallen away
with my civilized veneer.
May 7, 1863
-- This morning I had an interesting and silent encounter. One of the tribe of
Indians nearby watched me perform my morning tasks and then left without a
word. I am excited by the prospect of contact with the natives of the area.
May 20, 1863
-- I have finally convinced the Indians to parlay with me. I taught them the
word for "fort", feeling that it would be simple enough for them to
learn. They in turn taught me the Indian word "titonka", apparently a
small but tough, powerfully merchandised horseless carriage of metal
construction. I envy these people their simplicity.
June 7, 1863
-- Today I visited the Indians' village. It is on one of the many flat-topped
plateaus in the area. As the decline of the buffalo proceeds, so too does this
Indian tribe face decline. I will try to teach them agriculture. They have also
told me their name for themselves. It is "Anasazi"... which apparently
means "people called Anasazi" in their language. I am called by them
"Stinchapecsal" which means "he who should bathe more
regularly".
July 8, 1863
-- A rude awakening. The Indians are fully aware of agriculture and in fact
have nothing to do with the buffalo (what kind of nomadic tribe would build a
village on a _mesa_?); unfortunately, they are suffering a drought.
Knowing a
remedy, I have told them to dig a ditch from the nearby stream up the
mountainside to their mesa-top fields. In the meantime, I am pickling my
cucumbers.
July 20,
1863 -- The drought is desperate, but the ditch is finished and my pickles are
ready. I am lining the ditch with pickles. The Anasazi are doubtful, but I have
promised them results in the morning.
July 21,
1863 -- Success! The stream has been diverted and now flows up the mountainside
to the Anasazi fields. Amazed by this seeming magic, I told them that it was
simply a well-known fact in my world. After all, everyone knows that "dill
waters run steep".
It came to
pass that a very poor peasant was down to his last meal.
Deciding he
could no longer live in squalor, he decide to sell the only thing he owned...
his talking mule. This was no ordinary Francis type of talking mule, this one
could tell jokes and sing and keep the local townspeople very happy. With much
regret, the peasant sets off to the big city to sell his mule.
He sets up
on a street corner and the mule draws an immediate crowd. The mule is so funny
that the crowds can't remain standing because they're laughing so hard.
Finally, a man comes up to the peasant and says "I'm a talent scout for
The Tonight Show. I MUST have your mule for our show." Unfortunately, the
talent scout had just been pickpocketed, and had lost his wallet. The only
thing of value he had was a subway token. He convinced the peasant to trade the
mule for the "Magic Token of Good Fortune" and secured the mule.
On the way
home, the peasant realized that he had been taken, and he was broken hearted.
He used his subway token to get him to the edge of the city. When he put the
token in the slot, alarms went off and he was notified that he was the 1
billionth rider of the subway, and that he just won 50 million dollars.
Meanwhile,
the Mule was so funny that he took over Jay's job, and eventually put Dave,
Conan, John and every other late nighter out of business. The Morale of the
story: A Mule that is funny is soon bartered.
In the deep
forests of equatorial Africa, two rival tribes were constantly trying to outdo
each other. Since they shared a common hunting area, one might set up fake prey
decoys in order to have the other waste their time in useless locations while
the first would then be able to hunt the better area with out having to worry
about having their catch stolen at the last minute. At other times, they might
kidnap a member of the rival tribe, and paint embarrassing pictures on the
captive's body before releasing him(her) back to his own tribe.
The two
tribes were mostly non-violent, choosing to avoid war, although skirmishes did
result when one side or the other was seen as crossing the line past acceptable
competition. On such occasions the two tribal Kings would meet to personally
resolve the matter and even administer discipline if required.
On one
occasion, a group of warriors of one tribe stole the throne of the other
tribe's King. Although this throne was big and heavy, they dragged it through
the forest to their own village and displayed it in the tribal gathering
structure where the village held its ceremonial meetings and celebrations. The
local King was very pleased with the prank, but was jealous of his rival having
a bigger and better throne than he did. He knew that if the throne was not
returned in a couple of days, the rival King would visit to retrieve the throne
and demand the guilty parties be punished. On the other hand, he wanted to keep
the throne for himself. The council agreed that the throne could be hidden in
the rafters of their ceremonial house until the other tribe gave up looking for
it; leaving the local King to claim it as his own in time. To celebrate this
great achievement and their clever plan, a party was thrown in the ceremonial
house that evening. While the party was in progress in the building, the heavy weight
of the throne stowed in the rafters caused the whole edifice to collapse
injuring many of the tribesmen inside. The rival King arrived and uncovered the
whole plan, prompting him to remove the throne and to discipline the local King
for participating in the theft.
The moral of
the story is that people who live in grass houses, shouldn"t stow thrones.
A librarian
is working away at her desk when she notices that a chicken has come into the
library and is patiently waiting in front of the desk. When the chicken sees
that it has the librarian's attention, it squawks, "Book, book, book,
BOOK!"
The
librarian complies, putting a couple of books down in front of the chicken. The
chicken quickly grabs them and disappears.
The next
day, the librarian is again disturbed by the same chicken, who puts the
previous day's pile of books down on the desk and again squawks, "Book,
book, book, BOOK!"
The
librarian shakes her head, wondering what the chicken is doing with these
books, but eventually finds some more books for the chicken. The chicken
disappears.
The next
day, the librarian is once again disturbed by the chicken, who squawks (in a
rather irritated fashion, it seems), "Book, book, book, BOOK!" By
now, the librarian's curiosity has gotten the better of her, so she gets a pile
of books for the chicken, and follows the bird when it leaves the library. She
follows it through the parking lot, down the street for several blocks, and
finally into a large park. The chicken disappears into a small grove of trees,
and the librarian follows. On the other side of the trees is a small marsh. The
chicken has stopped on the side of the marsh. The librarian, now really
curious, hurries over and sees that there is a small frog next to the chicken,
examining each book, one at a time. The librarian comes within earshot just in
time to hear the frog saying, "Read it, read it, read it..."
I remember
it was about that time that Jim Sloane used to work in our Finance Branch. Now
that was a character. He was, in my opinion, an unusual individual who was
interested in some rather exotic subjects. The most unusual thing about him was
his pet, (rumoured to have been captured somewhere in Africa) which reminded me
of a piece of granite with eyes, which he called Teddy. Teddy typically just
sat there, doing nothing, but sometimes it lifted a lower edge and sucked in
powdered sugar. That was all it ate. No one ever saw it move, but every once in
a while it wasn't where people thought it was. There was a theory that it moved
when no one was looking.
Bob Laverty,
a Management Services employee, constantly ridiculed poor Teddy, saying mean
and nasty things about it. Laverty's pet looked like an iguana, and to me, at
least, was the ugliest looking thing that you would ever want to see. He called
this 'iguana' by the unlikely name of Dolly.
Well, one
day Sloane had had enough of these comments, and challenged Laverty to a race.
His Teddy against Laverty's Dolly. And to make things a bit more interesting,
he suggested a rather hefty wager on the outcome, which Laverty quickly agreed
to. Soon everyone got into the act. Every one of them bet on Dolly. At least it
moved. Sloane covered it all. He'd been saving his salary for some time (for
some exotic project, no doubt) and put every penny of it on Teddy.
The race
course was set in the basement garage. At one end, two bowls were set out, one
with powdered sugar for Teddy, and another with ground meat for Dolly. Dolly
started off at once and began moving along the floor slowly toward the meat.
All in attendance cheered it on.
Teddy just
sat there without budging.
Sugar,
Teddy. Sugar. said Sloane, pointing. Teddy did not move. It looked more like a
rock than ever, but Sloane did not seem concerned.
Finally,
when Dolly had 'ran' half-way across the garage, Sloane said casually to Teddy,
"If you don't get out there, Teddy, I'm going to get a hammer and chip you
into pebbles."
That was
when people realized how truly different Teddy was. Sloane had no sooner made
his threat when Teddy just disappeared from it's place and re-appeared smack on
top of the sugar.
Sloane won,
of course, and he counted his winnings slowly and luxuriously.
Laverty said
bitterly, "You knew the damn thing would do that."
No, I didn't,
said Sloane, "but I knew he would win. It was a sure thing."
How come ?,
said Laverty.
It's an old
saying everyone knows. Sloane's Teddy wins the race.
Freddy Fish
and Sam Clam were the best of friends, and did everything together. One day,
though, both perished in a freak mishap. Freddy Fish went to heaven, and
immediately looked around for his best friend. Not finding him, he asked St.
Peter where Sam was.
Sorry, he
didn't make it in.
You mean
he's down there? asked Freddy.
Yes.
Well, I want
to go see him!
This is
highly unorthodox, said St. Peter. "I'll ask the big guy."
Moments
later St. Peter returned and said:
You can go,
but you can only stay for one hour.
Great! said
Freddy, and grabbed his harp before anyone changed their minds. He went to the
elevator, and went down.
When the
elevator doors opened, Freddy saw a huge sign:
SAM'S
DISCOTHEQUE
He went in,
and discovered that it was run by his old friend. They sat down and reminisced
about old times, and had a few drinks. Time flew by, and when Freddy noticed
his watch, he saw that he had fifteen seconds left to return. He jumped out of
his chair, yelled a goodbye to Sam Clam, and raced to the elevator.
The elevator
doors opened in heaven with only one second to spare. St. Peter was standing
there with a stopwatch.
You just
barely made it, said St. Peter.
I know,
panted Freddy, out of breath. "But I have to go back there!"
What do you
mean!?! asked an incredulous St. Peter.
So Freddy
Fish says (* groan *):
I left my
harp in Sam Clam's Disco!
Many years
ago a traveler came to the ancient land of Day. As he traveled through the
country side he saw many fields and pastures. The people working the land all
appeared to be peasants, living in abject poverty. However all he passed seemed
to be in good spirits. Asking a peasant how he could be so happy while living
in such an impoverished state the man told him that this land was ruled by a
huge, intelligent and benevolent bear called King Mu. He continued to inform
the traveler that while he was poor now he could, when he thought he was ready,
participate in a kind of rite of passage and become a knight.
Asking what
was involved in this rite the peasant replied,"You know the usual stuff,
drinking till dawn, reciting sports scores from five years past, telling tall
tales about women he had never met, discussing the advantages of the designated
hitter rule, and many other things of similar difficulty." The traveler
agreed that would be a grueling test indeed. "Tell me peasant, what are
the rewards for passing such a test?" asked the traveler.
Why, sir,
when you are made a knight you receive all the goodies. You get things like a
Royal Express card. No limit on those things you know sir. You can move to a
nice Condo on the beach, and maybe even get a trophy wife to replace the one
you got now.
Amazing!,
said the traveler ,"This I would have to see to believe."
There's a
test going on now in the capital. said the peasant.
So the
traveler moved on down the road to the capital to see for himself if all was as
the peasant had said. Passing through the gates and into the beautiful capital
city he saw that the Festival of Testing was indeed in progress. In the center
of the town, on a raised ornate throne sat King Mu, who was indeed a bear and
looked that if he stood , would be at least twelve feet tall. Moving through
the crowd the traveler saw three men standing before the throne. Two of the men
looked to be in fine shape, clear of eye, with their collars buttoned down and wearing
a neck scarf in a power color. Both had at some point in the competition won
the honorary Rolex sun dial, which they wore on their wrists. The third man
however, looked horrible. His eyes were blood shot, and as he stood holding his
head, he looked like he was not to steady on his feet.
Rising from
his throne the king approached the two men and placing a huge paw on each of
their shoulders the king announced, " These two men I make knights and
grant unto them all the privileges they deserve." Turning to the third man
the king said, "This man did not however pass the test." With that he
raised a paw and much to the traveler's horror struck the man down, killing him
on the spot. At that point a king's aide brought forth a great shaggy dog , at
least four foot at the shoulder, and presented it to the grief stricken family.
Turing in shock and confusion, the traveler asked the man standing next to
explain what had just transpired.
Why,
everyone knows, said the man, "there's nothing better, after a bad Day's
knight, than the dog of the bear the hit you."
There was
once a rabbi who undertook a missionary-style trip to a South American rain
forest country. He was to spend a year with a very primitive, remote tribe
known only as the Trids. The rabbi knew that the only way to gain their
acceptance would be to adopt all of their many tribal customs, such as dress,
diet, studying their beliefs and so on. Much of this was difficult to learn for
the city-born rabbi, but as the months progressed he grew in the many ways of
the Trids.
One day,
returning from an extended walk in the rain forest, the rabbi entered the
tribal village to find the entire Trid tribe lined up side by side in the
village commons area. Behind this line walked the tribal chief. One by one he
would stop behind each tribe member and deliver a swift kick to the rear end.
This, thought the rabbi as he watched, is one of the strangest rituals I've
seen yet. But he knew that he must participate if he wished to win their
confidence. Solemnly he took his place at the end of the line. The chief
reached the end of the line and was just about to deliver the kick when
suddenly he realized that it was the rabbi before him.
I cannot do
this thing, said the chief firmly. The rabbi was shocked. Wasn't he yet
accepted by the tribe?
Why not? he
asked.
The chief
replied, "Silly rabbi! Kicks are for Trids!"
The armies
of Alexander the Great were greatly feared in their day, but there was one
problem that they had that almost defeated them. Alexander could not get his
people to staff meetings on time. He always held the meetings at 6:00PM each
day after the day's battle was done, but frequently his generals either forgot
or let the time slip up on them and missed the staff meeting. This angered
Alexander very much, to say the least!
So he called
in his research guys and set up a project to come up with a method of
determining the time at 6:00PM each day. There were no clocks in those days, at
least none that could be carried around. (The smallest was a giant water clock)
"Find a way my staff can determine the hour of the day, or at least when
it gets to be 6 o'clock!", he said, "Cost is no object."
A study was
instituted and, with several brain-storming sessions, came up with the
following idea. In a land some distance away, there grew a bush whose berries
contained a type of dye that changed color at 6 each evening. They found that
by dyeing strips of cloth and issuing them to the generals, they could see when
it was 6 by the color change, and could get to the meetings on time. Needless
to say this pleased Alexander very much.
It was then
turned over to the marketing group to come up with a name of this new invention
as Alexander saw definite market potential in the strips. "It can be worn
on the wrist and can be easily watched for the color change", said one
junior executive. "I therefore propose to call it the wrist watch."
This name was immediately hooted down as being too bland and obvious. Another man
suggested it be worn in the navel and could be observed by looking down,
therefore it should called the Navel Observatory. This idea was rejected out of
hand as being too weird and too technical sounding for the general public.
Finally the
senior vice president, who up to now had been silent, spoke and rendered his
decision. "We shall call it a Timeband, and in honor of the Great
Alexander, it shall be known as 'Alexander's Rag Timeband!'
Life was
desperate in rural Holland. As far as he could remember, the poor little dutch
boy could remember nothing but hardships. Food was scarce, his father was
abusive, and there was nothing to do after school but chores. Every day was
another hardship. The boy loved to dive from the windmill into the canal, but
his father hated to find that he had skipped out on his chores. Whenever he
returned, his father would beat him. However, if he didn't skip out, his fater
would find a reason to beat him anyhow. Life was nothing but hardships, except
for the secret escapes to practice diving from the windmill.
Eventually
the boy, now in his late teens, heard of a great contest in far-away Atlanta.
The best divers in the world, along with the best of everything else would meet
to decide who was REALLY the best. It would be the perfect escape from the
hardships of his mundane life.
He runs away
from home, sneaks aboard a freighter in Rotterdam and waits. No good. Of
course, he is discovered. Beaten by the crew, bloody, he is sent home to his
unimpressed father, who finds new hardships for him to endure.
A better
storyteller than I could tell you of his next four or five attempts to get to
the Atlanta games, each of which failed, yielding nothing but ever more painful
hardships. The poor little dutch boy stoicly endured each of them, perservering
and enduring.
Eventually,
he stows away in a cruise liner heading for the USA. He isn't found until four
days out at sea. The captain has the discretion of calling for a chopper to
take him back to the Netherlands, or to let him continue the trip and let
immigration in Atlanta deal with the problem. The captain listens to the boy
describing how he's been doing difficult dives all his life, and how
demonstrating the perfection he's developed to the rest of the world in Atlanta
is his only chance to escape from the hardships of his normal life.
The captain
decides to let the boy demonstrate his abilities. If the boy can execute a
perfect dive from the top of the radar mast, he can continue to the Olympics.
So, the radar is turned off, and the boy climbs the hundred feet to the top of
the radar mast. He looks down.
He has never
dived from a ship before. The gentle sway of the ship is magnified by the
height of the radar mast. He didn't expect this. looking down, he sees ...
pool, deck, sea, deck, pool, deck, sea, deck, pool... he jumps! ... and misses!
He crashes right THROUGH the deck! Everyone runs for the stairs to see if he's
OK. There's a splintered hole in the B deck. Even the metal decks of the C, D,
and E decks have been burst. They find the crumpled body crumpled against the
very hull itself, and even that is dented.
Everyone is
astonished when he sits up, dazed, but apparently unhurt. The captain,
horrified and apologetic, rushes forward. "My goodness! I never should
have asked you to try that! Are you OK? " The boy shakes his head and
answers:
That's OK.
I'm used to it. I've been through many HARD SHIPS before.
A panda bear
escapes from the zoo and is forced to live on his own. It turns out that he
really enjoys eating in nice resturants, but of course being a panda with no
job and no money he is unable to pay his bill. Being, also, an exceptionally
intelegent panda he devises a scheme that lets him eat in any resturant he
wishes.
One day he
decides to try a particularly nice resturant but when he asks the maitre d' for
a table he's told, "I've hear about you. Your the panda that never pays
for his meal. We won't seat you here." So, the panda leaves the resturant
and sits on a bench across the street from the resturant and contemplates his
empty tummy.
Some while
later the panda sees the maitre d' leave the resturant. The panda goes back and
asks the assistant maitre d' for a table, and is seated by the assistant who
has never heard about the panda's tricks. The panda has a wonderfull meal. (At
this point you may "shaggy dog" this story as much as you like, or
the audience will bear. Give details about the wonderfull meal the panda
enjoys)
Just as he
finshes desert the panda is aproched by the maitre d' who has returned to
discover the assistant maitre d's mistake. When the maitre d' demands payment
the panda pulls a gun, shoots the maitre d' and starts to leave. The assistant
maitre d' stops the panda and asks, "Where do you think you are
going?"
I'm leaving.
"You can't leave!" "Sure I can." "No you can't!"
At which
point the panda produces the encyclopedia voulme "P", opens it and
tells the assistant, "Read this."
The
assistant maitre d' reads aloud: "Panda, an animal indigenous to China
that EATS, SHOOTS and LEAVES."
I was
Abilene's sheriff. I think I was the youngest sheriff in the territories. One
afternoon, while I was playing 5-card stud in my favorite saloon, I happened to
glance out towards the street.
I saw a rope
ride into town.
Right away I
knew it was trouble. Nobody likes ropes. This one had been riding all day. It
looked as dry, and it probably smelled as bad, as the old straw broom that
One-Eye Judd has been using in his stable for the last five years. The rope
headed straight for the saloon where I was sitting, obviously hankering for
good whiskey to wash away the trail dust. I could see how the rope moved like a
cobra, maybe 30 feet coiled in the dust and ready to lash out. I checked my
shootin' iron under the table, trying not to be obvious.
The rope
used its "head" to push the saloon's swinging door open. It snaked
its way across the floor to the bar, pulled itself up onto a stool and called
for a drink. The bartender was a new fellow from Larame. He glared at the rope
and said, "Are you a rope?" When the rope answered, "Yes",
the bartender said, "Get out. We don't serve ropes in here." When the
rope didn't move, the bartender carefully reached over the bar, took hold of
the rope's main coil with one hand, while holding its "head" in a death
grip with the other hand, walked to the door, and threw all 35 feet of the
noisome thing out onto the street.
A couple of
the men smiled, but nothing else happened. I relaxed and picked up my cards
again. Apparently there wasn't going to be trouble. But then I heard someone
bellow, "That stinkin' rope is heading for the other saloon! Let's get
him!"
I looked at
my cards -- 4 jacks. Why does trouble always wait till I draw a winner? I
hurried out into the street, just as the rope entered the other saloon. I could
see how tired the rope was, really dragging itself. I felt sorry for the poor
thing, but I didn't let the townfolk see this in my face. One man can't fight
an entire town, if you take my meaning.
In less time
than it takes to load a six-gun, the rope came flying out the saloon door and
landed in a heap in the middle of the street. Well, it was a rope. What else
did it expect?
I knew this
affair wasn't over. So I stood in the shadows and waited. After a few minutes,
I saw two other ropes slinking down the far side of the street. They crossed
over and began to talk with the newcomer. I could hear most of what they said.
What
happened to you? asked one of the local ropes.
The newcomer
described what had happened in each saloon.
Oh, said
third rope, "obviously you don't know the trick. Watch me."
The third
rope unravelled both of its ends until they looked like paint brushes. Then the
rope looped and twisted itself into a tangled mess. I wondered how it could
keep track of itself like that, or even know where its ends were; but it
scooted handily across the street and under the swinging door of the nearest
saloon and up onto a barstool inside. I was impressed. Can you slide 100 feet
on your stomach with your arms and legs twisted together? I guess ropes have
the instinct for it. I watched as the bartender approached and asked
suspiciously, "Are you a rope?"
The rope
replied, "Nope, I'm afraid not."
It was
nearly Christmas, and this man, let's call him Fred, wanted to buy presents for
his friends and family. Alas, he didn't have enough money to buy them. So he
thought to himself, how to make money? He decided to try and make money by
selling something, then wondered what to sell. He thought, well, it's
Christmas, so why not sell Christmas decorations? There were bound to be some
people who had left their decorating to the last minute, after all.
The only
decoration Fred had up were jingle bells, which hung from the walls, connected
by string. He pulled them all off the walls, and into a cardboard box. Later,
he set up a stall in town, yelling to passers-by 'Bells for decorating! Hang
these bells from your walls and make your home look extra-Christmassy!' No-one
paid any attention to him, however. No matter how hard he cried, no matter how
much he shook the jingle bells, everyone ignored him.
'Oh, woe,'
said Fred to himself, 'no-one will buy my bells. I need a Christmas miracle!'
All of a
sudden, a robin fluttered down from the sky and landed on his stall. Fred saw
this as his prayers being answered, given how robins were associated with
Christmas.
'Hello,'
said the robin, 'My name is Bob. I see that no-one is buying your wares. Well,
maybe you can sell this thing I made!' From his feathers, Bob pulled out an
Easter Egg, which strangely, was much larger than Bob.
'We can't
sell Easter Eggs,' said Fred, 'it's Christmas!'
'Exactly!'
said Bob, 'We'll be the only place in town that sells Easter Eggs, and thus be
more popular!'
Just then,
Fred got another strange visitor. A rat, let's call her Midge, who wore high
heels to make her look bigger. She saw Bob's Easter Egg and said, 'Yum! I love
Easter Eggs, and that one looks large enough to count as a dinner for me! I'll
buy it!'
Bob helped
Midge get up onto the stall so she could take the egg and pay Fred his money.
Unfortunately, a criminal with a cigarette in his mouth (for he had a bad
smoking habit) was watching this. This criminal, let's call him Walter, then
burst in with a gun held to Fred's head. Bob flew away in terror and Midge was
frozen with fright. 'Give me that egg and no-one gets hurt!' Fred handed over
the egg and Walter ran away with it, leaving the jingle bells behind. As Walter
ran, he sang a song to punctuate his victory:
'Jingle
bells that man sells, Robin made an egg, A rat in heels lost her meal, And the
smoker got away!'
A horse is
sitting at home, watching MTV. He's watching a heavy metal music video, and the
guitarist plays an amazing solo. The horse says "that looks amazing, I
want to do that!"
The horse
goes to the phone book, looks up a music teacher and calls him. "Hi, I'd
like to learn to play guitar." says the horse.
"Sure,"
says the man on the phone. "Just come to your lesson and we'll get you
started."
"There's
just one problem," says the horse. "I'm a horse."
"Not to
worry," the man says. "We have new state of the art technology to
teach horses. You'll be playing like a pro in no time."
Sure enough,
the horse gets really good at the guitar and he can play that amazing solo. He
wants to show his friends, so he picks up the phone and calls chicken.
"Hey
Chicken, come over!" he says. Chicken comes over, watches horse play the
guitar and thinks it's pretty cool. Chicken watches the music video and says
"hey, that drum part is pretty cool, I want to learn to play that."
Chicken goes
to the phone book, looks up a music teacher and calls him. "Hi, I'd like
to learn to play the drums." Says the chicken.
"Sure,"
says the man on the phone. "Just come to your lesson and we'll get you
started."
"There's
just one problem," says the chicken. "I'm a chicken."
"Not to
worry," the man says. "We have new state of the art technology to
teach chickens. You'll be playing like a pro in no time."
Sure enough,
the chicken gets really good and begins to jam with the horse. Eventually, they
think that something's missing. They watch the video again and realize they
need a bass guitarist. They call their friend Cow and show them what they've
been up to. Cow thinks it's pretty cool, and wants to learn how to play the
bass guitar.
Cow goes to
the phone book, looks up a music teacher and calls him. "Hi, I'd like to
learn to play bass guitar." Says the cow.
"Sure,"
says the man on the phone. "Just come to your lesson and we'll get you
started."
"There's
just one problem," says the cow. "I'm a cow."
"Not to
worry," the man says. "We have new state of the art technology to
teach cows. You'll be playing like a pro in no time."
Sure enough,
the cow gets really good at the bass and the animals have a nice band going.
One day,
while they're practicing, a man walks by and hears them. He goes up to the
animals and says "hey, you guys are pretty good! I'm from a record label,
I'd like to sign you!"
The band
records an album, puts out some singles and becomes a massive success. They go
on a worldwide tour and make tons of money. Right before the last show of the
tour, which is supposed to be in Vegas, Horse gets a call. His mother is in
hospital.
Horse goes
to visit her before the show while the rest of the band goes to Vegas to set
up. It turns out that she's all good, it's just a cold. As horse is leaving the
hospital, he gets another call. The private jet that was carrying the band and
their producer crashed into the ocean, and there were no survivors.
Horse is
devastated. All of his best friends are dead, he's out of a job and he's stuck
with nowhere to go. He breaks down in tears and decides he'll drink himself to
death.
So the horse
walks into a bar.
The
bartender asks, "why the long face?"
On the night
of the darts match against their closest rivals, winning which will mean an
unassailable position in the league, an important player is missing. There is
much speculation amongst the other players as to where he is as no-one has seen
or heard from him since the end of the match the previous week, when he said he
was going to see an old friend.
The match is
a close one, and as the penultimate game is being played the missing man
arrives, much to the relief of his team mates, and manages to beat his
opponent, securing the league title for the team.
Asked where
he has been, the errant player relates this tale:
"You
know I said last week I was off to see an old friend? Well it was Sam. Some of
you know him: used to have that pub at the other end of town? Anyhow, he's
taken over the nightclub in Newtown, used to be called The Black Cat? He's
renamed it Fat Sam's.
"Anyhow,
I went over there and had a great evening. Played a few games of darts first,
then the music started: it was rock and roll night and I had a great time,
danced with a few girls, drank a few beers.
"At
closing time Sam said to stay a while; we had a lot of catching up to do, so we
chatted for a couple of hours over a few more beers and games of darts. Great
night."
The rest of
the dart team listened, then someone asked "So what has this got to do
with you being late this week?"
"Oh,
didn't I say? I had to go over there again this evening. You see, I was getting
ready for the match and couldn't find my darts anywhere. Then I remembered...
...(sings)
"I left my darts, In Fat Sam's Disco..."
Back in the
days of the old west, somewhere in Kansas, there lived a
rancher named Fred Holt. One day Fred found himself in need of
supplies so he headed off to town to restock. After picking up all he
needed, Fred decided to stop off at the local saloon for a warm one
(no refrigerators in the old west). As he was standing there quietly
drinking his beer, who should approach but his neighbor Sam Leed.
Now Sam was in a vile mood concerning a certain fence that Fred had
recently erected. Sam felt that open range should remain open and told
Fred this in no uncertain terms. A violent argument ensued, ending
only when the two parties were pulled off of each other and escorted
out of town.
Fred went on home and settled in for the night, but about midnight
was suddenly awakened by a commotion. He looked out and discovered
that his house was on fire. Quickly he gathered his family and managed
to get them all to safety. The house was a total loss, however.
Fred hitched up his wagon and headed off to town. When he told the
people what had happened, they were outraged. There was law coming
into Kansas and this wasn't tolerable. A possee was immediately formed
and Sam was arrested.
Now it just so happened that that great detective Charlie Chan
happened to be passing through town on his way to California. It
seemed that something was funny about this case, so he decided to stay
awhile and investigate.
He headed out to Fred's ranch and proceeded to look for clues. Right
away, it was apparent that the fire had been set. An empty kerosene
can and a suspicious odor said that this was no accident.
Poking around a bit, Mr. Chan found buried in the dirt an old,
somewhat decomposing breechcloth, possibly discarded by one of the
conscript labor party that had built the railroad.
Most interesting, since the railroad tracks were ten miles distant.
He was onto something, but needed another clue to tie it up. He found
it in the form of a handbill, crumpled and discarded in the corner of
the barn.
Unfolding it he read "Have you seen this coin? This 1832 half dollar
is worth over $1000. We will pay you hard cash for this coin and
others like it. Write for free list. J. Abernathy, coin broker, Boston".
Now he had all he needed to free Sam. He headed back toward town.
When he arrived, he noticed that no one was around. The town was
deserted, and worse still, the jail was empty, its door smashed.
Realizing that trouble was brewing, Charlie started running. As he
neared Hanging Rock, he could hear the angry roar of mob justice.
He entered the clearing and fought his way through the crowd while
yelling "Stop. You are making a big mistake. You are about to hang the
wrong man. The real culprit is The Lone Ranger."
The crowd stopped and gasped. Sam, a rope already placed around his
neck, looked visibly relieved. The mob leader looked down and asked
"The Lone Ranger? How could that possibly be?"
Charlie paused, smiled, and replied "It has to be. All the clues
point to it...
A fiery 'stead with the spite of Leed
A clout of dust
And a hearty 'Buy old Silver'
Who else could it have been?"
A guy is
climbing to the top of Mount Everest. He has only a few steps to go when he
notices the heel on his right shoe is a little loose, yet he decides to
continue. At the next step, the heel comes off and the guy goes tumbling down
the mountain.
As he goes by, he passes a couple of climbers.
First climber: “Think we should help him?”
Second climber: “No, as he was going down I heard him singing ‘You picked a
fine time to leave me, loose heel.’”
“In
deference to the next of kin,” Commander Cummerbund explained with morbid
relish, “the full story of the super-cruiser ‘Flatbush’s’ last mission has
never been fully revealed. You know, of course, that she was lost during the
war against the Mucoids.”
We all
shuddered. Even now, the very name of the gelatinous monsters who had come
slurping Earthward from the general direction of the Coal Sack aroused vomitive
memories.
“I knew her
skipper well — Captain Karl van Rinderpest, hero of the final assault on the
unspeakable, but not unshriekable!! Yeetch.”
He paused
politely to let us unplug our ears and mop up our spilled drinks.
“‘Flatbush’
had just launched a salvo of probability inverters against the Mucoid home
planet and was heading back toward deep space in formation with three
destroyers — the Russian ‘Lieutenant Kizhe’, the Israeli ‘Chutzpah’, and her
Majesty’s ‘Insufferable’. They were still accelerating when a fantastically
unlikely accident occurred. ‘Flatbush’ ran straight into the gravity well of a
neutron star.”
When our
expressions of horror and incredulity had subsided, he continued gravely.
“Yes — a
sphere of ultimately condensed matter, only ten miles across, yet as massive as
a sun — and hence with a surface gravity one hundred billion times that of
Earth.
“The other
ships were lucky. They only skirted the outer fringe of the field and managed
to escape, though their orbits were deflected almost a hundred and eighty
degrees. But ‘Flatbush’, we calculated later, must have passed within a few
dozen miles of that unthinkable concentration of mass and so experienced the
full violence of its tidal forces.
“Now in any
reasonable gravitational field — even that of a White Dwarf, which may run up
to a million Earth g’s — you just swing around the center of attraction and
head on out into space again, without feeling a thing. At the closest point you
could be accelerating at hundreds or thousands of g’s — but you’re still in
free fall, so there are no physical effects. Sorry if I’m laboring the obvious,
but I realize that everyone here isn’t technically orientated.”
If this was
intended as a crack at Fleet Paymaster General “Sticky Fingers” Geldclutch, he
never noticed, being well into his fifth beaker of Martian Joy Juice.
“For a
neutron star, however, this is no longer true. Near the center of mass the
gravitational gradient — that is, the rate at which the field changes with
distance — is so enormous that even across the width of a small body like a
spaceship there can be a difference of a hundred thousand g’s. I need hardly
tell you what that sort of field can do to any material object.
“‘Flatbush’
must have been torn to pieces almost instantly, and the pieces themselves must
have flowed like liquid during the few seconds they took to swing around the
star. Then the fragments headed on out into space again.
“Months
later a radar sweep by the Salvage Corps located some of the debris. I’ve seen
it — surrealistically shaped lumps of the toughest metals we possess twisted
together like taffy. And there was only one item that could even be recognized
— it must have come from some unfortunate engineer’s tool kit.”
The
Commander1s voice dropped almost to inaudibility, and he dashed away a manly
tear.
“I really
hate to say this.” He sighed. “But the only identifiable fragment of the pride
of the United States Space Navy was . . . one star-mangled spanner.”
Shawn took
the stage again. "OK guys. Next up we have a classic Camp Acorn favorite
story. This is a story about a terrible, evil, and vile monster known as the
'Medicrin'."
Several of the campers gave out a big 'whoop' with this announcement. I guessed
it was an annual camp story. Nate stepped into the circle and sat on the tree
stump.
"Once
upon a time there was a small village that had a big problem." Nate told
us. "The village's problem was that it was terrorized by a monster. They
called this monster....the Medicrin!"
Ben leaped into the circle landing on all fours and startled everyone. He
growled viciously as he crawled around in the sand, bearing his teeth and
lunging at the campers who withdrew with screams and laughs. He was wearing
only a pair of dark shorts and his skin had been painted brown. His eyes and
nose had been blackened, his hair spiked up, he was wearing ferocious looking
teeth and he had what looked like blood around his mouth. He looked a bit like
a werewolf. I felt my son stiffen beside me.
"It's only pretend." I whispered. "It's Ben." He nodded as
he watched but he still crawled into my lap. I wrapped my arms protectively
around him and I felt him relax into me.
"The savage Medicrin would come out of the thick woods in the dead of
night, find a sleeping child in the village and gobble it up!"
The Medicrin launched into a frantic 'feeding frenzy' as he grabbed Nate's leg
and pretended to maul it as he growled and tore. Nate watched seemingly
unperturbed until the Medicrin stopped and looked up at Nate.
"Are ya done?" Nate asked patiently.
The Medicrin nodded and smiled. The crowd laughed.
"Of course the villagers lived in constant terror and sadness." Nate
continued the story. "They had tried everything but the Medicrin was too
strong and too clever for their traps."
The Medicrin stood up on his hind legs, hands on his hips, threw back his head
and gave out a loud howl! My son shivered. Back down on all fours the Medicrin
sneered and snapped at the campers as they shrieked and giggled.
"Finally the villagers decided that they needed expert help. They put an
ad in the national newspaper and soon enough they got three applicants. The
first monster expert they hired got caught in his own trap."
The Medicrin stopped in his tracks and giggled like a little girl. The audience
snickered.
"The second expert was eaten within thirty seconds of meeting the
Medicrin."
The Medicrin licked his finger tips and rubbed his belly. The campers
chuckled.
"But the final expert was a young man by the name of Will."
Will, the counselor, stepped into the glow of the campfire. He folded his arms
and stared at the Medicrin who gave out a loud dismissive snort.
"Now, by this time the villagers had pretty much given up hope of ever
getting rid of the Medcrin. But the one thing that Will had that the other
experts didn't have, besides his handsome looks and incredible intellect, was
'The Book of Terrible, Evil and Vile Monsters'."
Will ran his fingers through his Mohawk hair cut, smoothed out his goatee, and
then grabbed a pocket book out of his shorts. He flipped it open and ran his
finger down the pages as he mumbled to himself.
"Here it is! The chapter on the Medicrin!" Will looked up with excitement.
"Will read the chapter thoroughly. What he found out was that the
Medicrin, besides liking the taste of human flesh, it also liked to eat loons
and sugar. So Will came up with a plan. He dug a deep hole in the center of the
village."
Will pantomimed digging frantically. He grunted and groaned as he did so.
"In the pit he placed a live loon that he had spent three days trying to
capture."
Will held his hands outstretched and a wooden duck was thrown into his grasp.
We all giggled at that. Will plopped the duck into his hole and then scampered
a few feet away, sat down, and covered his eyes, peeking out every couple of
seconds.
"Then...he hid and waited. That night the Medicrin came into town. He
sniffed the air. He could smell something scrumptious..." The Medicrin
slowly crawled towards the loon, raising his head and sniffing the air.
"The Medicrin could smell the delicious loon, but he could also
smell....danger..."
The monster sniffed over top of the loon pit but suddenly stopped. He shook his
head.
"So the Medcrin grabbed a village child and ate him instead."
The beast gnawed at Nate's leg for a few seconds, stopped and gave out a loud
burp. All the kids giggled at that one.
"In Will's second attempt to catch the demon he filled the pit with twenty
bags of sugar. And again the Medicrin was tempted but the overwhelming smell of
danger kept the creature from falling for the trap."
"Uh, uh, uh!" the Medicrin sang as he waggled his finger over the pit
and then, again, chewed on Nate's leg.
"By
this time the villagers wanted to throw Will into the pit as bait for the
Medicrin. But Will begged for one more try. Well, the villagers didn't have any
other options, so they told Will he only had one more chance. Will decided he
would put the loon AND the sugar into the pit and see if the Medicrin could
resist the temptation of both of these. So that is what he did..."
Will placed the loon in the pit and mimed dumping bags and bags of sugar into
the pit.
"But immediately he saw that the loon proceeded to eat all the sugar!
Every single grain of it!"
"NOOOOO!" shouted an anguished Will as he beat his chest and threw
his hands towards the sky.
"But it was too late. The Medicrin approached and there was nothing Will
could do but sit back and watch and hope. The devil sniffed the air. He smelled
sugar. He smelled loon. He teetered over the edge of the pit,
indecisively."
The creature hovered over top of the loon rubbing his claws together. But then
he stopped.
"But the beast also smelled....danger!"
The Medicrine turned and began to crawl away when he stopped again. He turned
back toward the pit.
"This
time however, the smell of the loon and the sugar was just too much for the
demon to resist. He dove into the pit and grabbed hold of the gorged loon and
began to feast ferociously. It had no idea what hit him when Will rained down
upon him and exterminated him with a diving elbow drop!"
Will flew through the air and landed on a squealing Ben. The crowd went wild
with applause and laughter. Will got up and dusted off his pants and then
folded his arms across his chest. Nate waited patiently for the noise to die
down.
"So the moral of the story, dear campers, is that.....'A loon full of
sugar helps the Medicrin go down!'"
Long ago,
before Gamecubes, before Playstations, even before Atari, there were nasty,
vile monsters roaming the land. In those days, a few brave, strong men made
their living by protecting common people from these beasts. This is a story
about one such man named Erik and the adventure he had.
There was a small village on the edge of a wide prairie, next to a very thick
forest that led up into the cold, dark mountains. In these mountains lived the
dreaded Medicrin. The Medicrin would stalk down from the mountains in the dead
of night, sneak into the village, and snatch a sleeping villager. He would take
the poor soul away and eat him for breakfast. This happened every week so you
can imagine the villagers became quite tired of it.
The terrified villagers called a meeting, and decided to hire the greatest hero
around - Erik the Brave!
Erik rode into town on his trusty steed, entered the city hall, and listened to
the story the villagers told of the monster that attacked at night each week.
When they were finished, Erik told them he would have a plan in the morning and
he went to his hotel room.
In his room, he consulted his Great Hero's Book of Vile Monsters, and found the
chapter about the Medicrin. He learned that Medicrins stink like rotten eggs.
He learned they have 6 fingers with long claws. He learned they never brush
their teeth. He learned they have very good noses. And he learned they love to
eat human flesh, but even more, they love to eat Loons.
So, early the next morning, actually very, very early the next morning, Erik
hunted high and low, near and far, to find a loon. He finally found one just
before breakfast, captured it, tied it up, and brought it back to the village.
He then told the villagers his plan.
He had them dig a pit that was 20 feet deep (because the Medicrin was 9 feet
tall) and 10 feet around. While they were digging, Erik tied a big rock to the
leg of the loon, so it could not fly away.
When the pit was finished, just about a half hour before sunset, Erik tossed in
the rock, and of course the loon went in too. Then, he told the villagers to go
to their homes while he waited for the Medicrin.
Erik jumped in the bushes and waited with his great broadsword with which to
slay the Medicrin.
That night, the Medicrin snuck into the village . . .
It smelled the loon . . .
It came closer to the pit . . .
But then it smelled DANGER, and it ran off. On the way out of the village, it
grabbed one of the villagers for a snack.
Needless to say, the villagers were not happy. Some demanded their money back,
others wanted to throw Erik into the pit. After calming the villagers, the next
day, Erik again consulted his Great Hero's Book of Vile Monsters, and learned
more about the Medicrin. He learned it wore the same underwear for 3 weeks in a
row. He learned it could not sing at all, but enjoyed listening to opera music.
But, most importantly, he learned that Medicrins love sugar more than anything
else in the world, even turnip-spinach surprise!
So, Erik used some of the money the villagers had given him and rode his trusty
steed to the next village, bought all the sugar he could carry and returned -
this took two days because villages were far apart in those days. The next day,
he rode to a different village and bought their sugar. The next day, he went to
yet another village. It had now been a week and the Medicrin was due to come
again this night.
Erik gathered all this sugar and threw it into the pit. The loon, that was
still stuck down in the pit, had not eaten in a week now and was extremely
hungry. As fast as Erik could throw the sugar in the pit, the loon ate it up.
It ate ALL the sugar!
Erik was struck with panic, and ran to and fro trying to figure out what to do
next, but night had fallen, and the Medicrin would be there soon, so Erik
crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best.
That night, the Medicrin came . . .
It smelled the loon . . .
It came closer to the pit . . .
It smelled sugar . . .
It came closer to the pit . . .
It smelled DANGER and turned to run away.
But, that smell of sugar was just too overpowering.
It couldn't resist.
The Medicrin ran up and dove down into the pit.
And, it was trapped!
Brave Erik leaped from behind the bush, raised his sword, and jumped down onto
the Medicrin, driving his sword into its neck, and slew it.
Which just goes to show: A loon full of sugar helps the Medicrin go
down.
Monty Stein,
in the year 3047, committed quite a heist and made off with quite a tidy sum.
He was eventually caught, and the judge sentenced him to seven years
imprisonment. However, the night before his impending incarceration, he calmly
set his time machine for seven years and one day, and stepped through.
When he
emerged in 3054, there was quite an uproar. Prosecution maintained that Monty
Stein never actually served the sentence, since effectively no time passed for
him. Defense stated that the effect was basically the same, since he lost seven
years of living in society, or something to that effect. Both sides called each
other names (as lawyers are wont to do).
Eventually,
Stein was set free. Some say that the judge succumbed to peer pressure; others
said that he simply couldn't resist the temptation. For his decision, in full,
was:
"A
niche in time saves Stein."
There once was
a Viking who had a blind wife. He always brought her something of the loot from
his voyages. Once, he asked her if there was something special she wanted.
"Yes", she said, "I'd really like to have a good hod to carry
the coal in."
Well,
however much the Viking looked and searched during the fighting and pillaging,
all he could find was an old, battered sink. So, he took that home.
His wife was
very happy. This proves that a sink is as good as a hod to a blind Norse.
Arthur and his wife Muriel were sitting in their Vauxhall
Viva eating their
ice cream cornets. Suddenly two enormous black birds started to flap around on
the bonnet of the car. Arthur got out and placed his cornet on the bonnet,
instantly causing the birds to calm down.
"Well, I've never seen that before," said Muriel.
"Oh,it's just a case of stilling two birds with one's
cone."
DOC AT THE TOP OF THE
STAIRS
An old doctor, known to his friends in Detroit as Doc, would see his
last patient of the day and then wander downstairs to the corner tavern every
afternoon for his daily medication. Because Doc was a frequent visitor, Dick
the bartender had become very accustomed to the doctor's favorite drink an
acorn daiquiri. Promptly at five o'clock, Dick would squeeze the juice of an
acorn into a daiquiri and have the cold drink waiting.
One afternoon, much to his dismay, Dick discovered he had no acorns. Not
wanting to disappoint his faithful customer, the bartender located a hickory
nut and squeezed its juices into the daiquiri, hoping the doctor wouldn't
notice. Old Doc entered the tavern on schedule and, per his custom, sipped the
drink to savor its mellow taste.
Doc motioned for the bartender and when he came near said: "This isn't an
acorn daiquiri, Dick."
"No, it isn't," the bartender confessed. "I'm sorry but I ran
out of acorns. This is a hickory daiquiri, Doc."
THE MOOSE HUNTER
My brother, David, who lives in Maine, tells this story. Several years
ago he owned a roan stallion he had trained to hunt moose.
His stallion could smell moose at least a mile away. Of course, many people
make similar claims. Most, who have been near enough to notice, agree that
moose do have a distinctive odor.
When moose season arrived, David would saddle up the roan and ride off into the
woods. He would simply allow the horse to wander aimlessly, but invariably they
would find moose the first day of the season. The horse was able to approach
the moose without frightening them, so that Dave could easily bag one.
This horse became famous all over Maine for its extraordinary ability. Dave was
the envy of hunters from one end of Maine to the other because his family was
assured an ample supply of moose mince meat every Christmas.
One fall day, when Dave went out to feed the horse, he found it had been
stolen. He spread the word about his loss, but moose season came and went
without the return of his roan stallion.
After moose season closed, a pickup truck drove into Dave's farmyard with the
missing horse in a trailer. The driver said, "I'm bringing your horse
back. He's no good. He didn't find any moose at all."
My brother replied, "I could have told you: A stolen roan gathers no
moose!"
"The Moose Hunter" from "Shaggy Dogs have
Punny Tales" by Gene Child (�1992
V.Gene Child)
There was once a young man who was very fond of illicit
vegetable matter that is commonly smoked to get high. Anyway, one day, while he
was cleaning his stash of extremely potent stuff (high oil content) he was
called to the phone. His friend, who had already consumed a great portion of
the matter thought he would help out in the cleaning.
Unfortunately, he was new to the game so he tried to separate
the stems and seeds by cleaning the pot with a soap solution. Needless to say,
when the hero of our story returned from the phone he was extremely upset, to
say the least. However, he didn't have time to cry since the phone call
informed him that his wife's car had broken down and he had to go out to help
her fix it.
He scooped up the messy bag of soapy resinous cannabis and
drove out to the broken down car. When he arrived he immediately realized that
the car had run out of oil. Unfortunately, he didn't have any oil, but he did
have the bag of greasy marijuana. He put the wet pot into the car's engine and
started up the car. It ran fine until it exploded a quarter mile down the road.
There is a moral. You know what it is?
A washed pot never oils.
In order to keep the people of his colony in check he had a
book of magic spells which he would use against any rebels. His favorite
incantation was a spell that would turn anyone who rebelled against him into an
apple. The people in the colony suffered under the witch's reign for years,
until one night they finally built up enough courage to steal the magic book of
incantations. The people sent in a spy to grab the magic book but he could only
grab one spell, that being the apple spell. The next day when the witch woke up
the leader of the rebels got up and turned the witch doctor into an apple, thus
freeing the people from his evil reign. But, the spell warns that if the apple
changes in color or weight, that means that the spell is only temporary, and it
will turn the apple back into a person. So the people decided that every day they
would put the apple on a scale to make sure it hadn't gained weight, because as
the old saying goes "A weigh a day keeps the doctor an apple"
This guy went to the doctor and said to him “Doctor….I don’t
know
what’s wrong with me, but every time I fart, it sounds like the word
HONDA”.
“That’s interesting, never heard of anything like that
before. Do you
think you could fart for me?” says the doctor. The guy says “Sure.”
And sure enough, the doctor hears “HONDA”.
After several attempts to figure out what’s wrong with this
guy, the
doctor runs out of ideas. He sends him to all sorts of stomach
specialists and none of them can figure out why this guys farts say
“HONDA.” It is a completely out of this world medical condition.
Finally, as a last resort, the doctors think they should send
the man
to a dentist.
After explaining the problem to the dentist, the dentist
opened up
the guys mouth and examining it.
The dentist says “A-haa!!!!….I have solved the problem.”
The patient says “What is it? What is it. Please tell me doc”…..The
dentist replies “Well, sir, you have an abscess tooth.”
The guy says “Yeah….so….What has that got to do with my
farts?”
The dentist replies, “Cant you see??….. Abscess Makes The
Fart Go HONDA”
An Indian consulted his medicine man about a pain in his
stomach that had persisted for three months.
"For something as long as that," said the Medicine
Man, "I have a more drastic remedy than the herbs I normally prescribe.
Chew on this leather thong every day. It is 31 inches long: chew one inch every
day, and at the next moon come back."
The Indian dutifully did as directed, and at the next moon he
returned to the Medicine Man.
"How do you feel?" the Medicine Man asked.
"The thong is ended, but the malady lingers on."
It is a little-known fact that before becoming president of
South Korea, Syngman Rhee was for many years foreign correspondent for Life
magazine, dividing his time between their New York and Seoul offices. One day,
he left New York for a routine trip to Seoul, but, when he wasn't heard from,
the New York office became worried and called the Seoul office. The Seoul
office confirmed that he had arrived as scheduled but had left almost
immediately for North Korea. They quoted him as saying that he was not at
liberty to say where he could be reached but that he would be doing a story on
how the other half lived, promising to cable it to Seoul and New York on
completion.
The New York office was worried and decided to send a
bilingual correspondent to North Korea to try to locate him. He arrived in
Seoul, at which time he was told that they had had an update: Syngman Rhee had
called in a half hour earlier to say that his story would concern interviews
with a taxi driver, a tailor, and a restaurant manager, all in Pyongyang. But
he still declined to supply a contact address.
So the reporter decided to go to Pyongyang to track him down.
At the Pyongyang airport he took a taxi into town, and luck was with him: while
his taxi driver had not been the one interviewed, he knew the driver who had,
and he gave the reporter his name. When reporter talked to the driver, the
driver said that Rhee had planned to interview a tailor in a district known for
its many tailors.
Again luck was with him: out of 3,518 tailors, he only had to
talk to 17 before finding the one who had been interviewed by Rhee: he quoted
him as saying he intended to talk to a restaurant manager located in a suburb
of Pyongyang. Acting on a hunch that the suburb would be the last one on the
commuter train line, he took the train for the northern suburbs and got off at
the last stop. He interviewed a restaurant manager there without success, so he
returned to Pyongyang Central Station and took a train to the northeast,
getting off at the last stop. In this way he worked his way around, taking trains
to the east, then southeast, and again luck was with him. He did not have to
get half way around the circuit before arriving at the last town on a line
running southeast of Pyongyang, where he talked to the manager of one of the
town's only two restaurants. The manager confirmed that Syngman Rhee had gone
to the other one for his interview.
Arriving there, the correspondent talked to the manager, who
said that Rhee had just interviewed him and was now in the kitchen talking to
the staff. The reporter went into the kitchen, and there was Syngman Rhee,
looking as if he hadn't aged a day in three months, sipping a cup of tea with
the staff with his notebook on his knee. The correspondent said, "Ah,
sweet Mr. Rhee of Life, at last I've found you!"
King Ozymandias of Assyria was running low on cash after
years of war with the Hittites. His last great possession was the Star of the
Euphrates , the most valuable diamond in the ancient world. Desperate, he went
to Croesus, the pawnbroker, to ask for a loan. Croesus said, "I'll give
you 100,000 dinars for it." "But I paid a million dinars for
it," the King protested.
"Don't you know who I am? I am the king!"
Croesus replied, "When you wish to pawn a Star, makes no
difference who you are."
Evidence has been found that William Tell and his family were
avid bowlers. However, all the Swiss league records were unfortunately
destroyed in a fire, and we'll never know for whom the Tells bowled.
A man rushed into a busy doctor's office and shouted
"Doctor! I think I'm shrinking!!" The doctor calmly responded,
"Now, settle down. You'll just have to be a little patient."
Back in the 1800s the Tates Watch Company of Massachusetts
wanted to produce other products and, since they already made the cases for
watches, they used them to produce compasses. The new compasses were so bad
that people often ended up in Canada or Mexico rather than California .
This, of course, is the origin of the expression, "He
who has a Tates is lost!"
A thief broke into the local police station and stole all the
toilets and urinals, leaving no clues. A spokesperson was quoted as saying,
"We have absolutely nothing to go on."
A famous Viking explorer returned home from a voyage and
found his name missing from the town register. His wife insisted on complaining
to the local civic official who apologized profusely saying, "I must have
taken Leif off my census."
A skeptical anthropologist was cataloging South American folk
remedies with the assistance of a tribal brujo who indicated that the leaves of
a particular fern were a sure cure for any case of constipation. When the
anthropologist expressed his doubts, the brujo looked him in the eye and said,
"Let me tell you, with fronds like these, who needs enemas?"
There was this man studying to be a Baptist preacher in the
Southern Baptist Seminary. His final exams were coming up. He had been studying
very hard, and he was very nervous about the exams. Because of this, he had not
been in a very a good mood for a while, and had been grumpy and surly with his
family.
On this particular day, the man was studying at home. He had
told his young son Jack to be at home by 6pm. Well, Jack gets home a few
minutes after six. As soon as Jack walks in the door, his father yells at him
in his big booming preacher voice, "Hey Jack, you're late son!" Jack
runs crying to his Mother, and tells her what happened. She says, "Now
Jack, your father shouldn't have yelled at you like that. You were only a few
minutes late. You see, you're father has been under a lot of stress lately
because of his final exams to become a minister. You see Jack, your father is
suffering from pre-ministerial syndrome, and that's what caused his premature
'Hey Jack, you're late son'."
A couple of biologists are studying terns on a rock island
just off the coast. While walking on a distant part of the island, they are
shot at by a group of thugs operating a pot farm. This happens several times
and the local law enforcement refuses to investigate. On their last day on the
island they happen into a huge pile of harvested pot that has been set out to
dry. Quickly they decide to set it on fire to pay the thugs back for shooting
at them. The fire takes off and sends plumes of smoke into the sky. As they are
running for their boat, they notice that the soaring birds are acting weird,
spiraling out of control and crashing into the trees. The next day they read
the headlines in the local paper: Pot Farm Burns - No Tern Left Unstoned.
A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One goes to
a family in Egypt and is named "Amal." The other goes to a family in
Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of
himself to his Mom. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she
wishes she also had a picture of Amal. Her husband responds, "But they're
twins. If you've seen Juan, you've seen Amal."
Benton Fraser, RCMP was bringing a sample for Mort, the
pathologist at the 27th precinct, to analyze. Upon entering the lab he heard
Mort singing.
Instead of his usual operatic songs Mort was singing a sea
chantey.
"Pardon me Mort but could you check this...."
"Ah Fraser my boy come in, come in. I was just singing
because I was looking forward to indulging hobby this weekend."
Fraser, knowing that often best to let Mort ramble, answered
" What hobby is that?" hoping this would allow Mort to finish this
line of discussion faster and then get to the matter Fraser wanted to discuss.
"I love rigging sailships. Ahhh the ropes, the pulleys, the satisfaction
that a good rigging leads to a good sailing trip."
"I see. well if you could just look at this
sample..."
"Unfortunately I have lost my rigging partner for this
trip."
"Mort..."
"And I really can't do it alone."
"Mort"
"At my age, my joints get tired from working the
ropes."
"Mort!"
"One really needs a good rigging to stand up against the
winds of Lake Michigan."
"MORT!" sighing heavily Fraser decided to indulge
Mort. "If I agree to go with you this weekend and help you with the
rigging, would that facilitate the identification of this sample?"
"Why, yes indeed it would Fraser. I'll have the results
to you at the end of today."
Writing down directions to where his boat was and handing the
paper to Fraser "Be here Saturday, 7:00 a.m. Thank you Fraser.
Fraser got the lab results from Mort and, true to his word,
he helped Mort with the rigging on Saturday. He arrived, confident that he
could even teach Mort a thing or two about rigging courtesy of his RCMP training
in knot tying and rigging.
Monday arrived with Fraser waiting for his friend Ray Vecchio
(actually Stan Kowolski). Fraser appeared to be brooding.
"Hey Fraser, old buddy, I hear you went sailing with ol'
Mort. Didja have a good time?"
"Yes Ray, I did. But I also had a lesson in
humility."
"Whadaya mean by that."
"I assumed that my training from the RCMP would be
superior to the skills of a pathologist, for whom rigging was merely a
hobby."
"And?"
"Morts skills and dexterity were..."
Fraser paused, shifting uncomfortably.
"C'mon Fraze, out with it"
"I was good but.."
"But??"
"I'm not the rigger Mort is".
There once was a snake breeder who had two snakes he was
trying to mate. For the life of him, he couldn't get them within two feet of
each other. Frustrated, he called up the local herpetologist, and explained the
situation. She hurried over, picked up the snakes and looked at them. "You
know what I would do?" she said. "See that tree over there? Chop it
down, chop off a good sized log, split the log in two, and make two tables out
of them. Put the tables and the snakes into a cage, and let them go at
it."
Well, the breeder thought that this was insane, but having no
other options, he tried it. Sure enough, a few days later he had a whole slew
of baby snakes. He called up the herpetologist, and asked her how that was
possible. She replied, "Well, you see, those snakes were adders. And
everybody knows that to get adders to multiply you need log tables."
Mr. Combs had a furniture store specializing in ornate
antiques in the Baroque style. He had walking pneumonia last month but was at
the store anyway. He was in one of the Baroque style chairs rubbing Vicks
Vaporub on his aching chest when he serendipitously discovered that the
soothing ointment gave the furniture a wonderful, deep, rich shine. He
immediately told the other furniture store owners since their furniture was
more modern in style and they were not competitors.
Soon he got reports that the Vicks treatment not only failed
to work on the modern furniture, but ruined some of it.
Mr. Combs is very unpopular now, and his only consolation is
that he learned one important rule: If it's not Baroque, don't Vicks it
In Madrid the Sephardic Jews had wheat shipped from Israel to
make Passover matzo. However, after a few pecks of wheat were unloaded, the
airport workers went on strike and unloading ceased.
Yes, the grains in Spain stayed mainly on the plane.
A group of low functioning children where formed into a choir
group and at the end of every performance their teacher would reward them with
either a nice red apple or a glass of diet soda.
Do you know what they called themselves?
The Moron Tab or Cracker Choir.
There was this troupe of dancers that traveled around the
country dancing in clubs and theatres. They were called the Steppers.
At one club, the Steppers did such a good job of pulling in
patrons that the management gave them all the drinks they could drink after the
show.
Well, they all got plastered and were having a big party.
When it came time to get on their bus to travel to the next town, they did not
want to stop partying, so they just moved the party to the bus. As they rode
down the highway, you could here their yelling, singing, and laughing for
miles.
At a house along that very highway, there lived a family that
had a pet snake. It was a viper, and it's name was Peter.
That night, Peter Viper was asleep in his snake house in the
back yard. Suddenly, he was awakened by a loud racket. It was the bus carrying
the Steppers still having their party.
But Peter didn't know that. In his confusion, he thought he
was back in deep dark Africa being pursued by Pygmies. He slithered out of his
snake house, headed across the yard as fast as he could, and crossed the
highway just in front of the bus.
The bus driver, who was a little sleepy, saw Peter Viper in
the road, and mistook him for a giant log. He swerved, and the bus landed in
the ditch, drunk Steppers lying everywhere.
The next day, the headline in the paper read: "Peter
Viper wrecks a truck of pickled Steppers."
Jesus and his disciples were walking around one day, when
Jesus said, "The Kingdom of Heaven is like 3x squared plus 8x minus
9."
The disciples looked very puzzled, and finally asked Peter,
"What on earth does Jesus mean - 'the Kingdom of Heaven is like 3x squared
plus 8x minus 9?'"
Peter said, "Don't worry, guys. It's just another one of
his parabolas."
There was once a very influential farmer in a remote part of
China, who had a problem. His chickens were losing their feathers and dying. H
sought the counsel of the two wise men in town, Hing, who was scientist, and
Ming, who was a sorcerer.
Hing, who has had man advanced course hours in poultry science, consults the
classic text in poultry disease, "Everything You Always Wanted to Know
About Diseases of Chickens, But Were Afraid to Ask." In the book Hing
finds a reference to the report of a study showing that feeding the chickens
with an infusion of gum tree leaves is often a remedy for chickens losing their
feathers. Meanwhile Ming reads obscure writings of ancient wise men, he
meditates, and he reads tarot cards and examines the entrails of a pig. Getting
no inspiration he uses his old standby, reading tea leaves. In a spark of
discovery, it comes to him that an infusion of gum tree leaves is the cure.
So the two wise men report back to the influential Chinese farmer. Ming says,
"As gum sticks to tables and chairs, so shall an infusion of gum tree
leaves make feathers stick to chickens." Hing agrees, saying "Studies
show that infusions of gum tree leaves alleviate feather loss in chickens."
The influential Chinese farmer is ecstatic, for the two wisest men in town are
of a single mind. He decides to follow their recommendation. It does not work.
Moral of the Story: "All of Hing's courses and all of Ming' ken couldn't
get gum tea to feather a hen."
Penny was a hard working, conscientious girl, who lived on
her own. Her dream in life was to go on an ocean cruise around the world. So
she scrimped, and she saved, and she saved, and she scrimped until finally, one
day, she had enough money to go on her ocean cruise. She booked passage on a
cruise liner - first class all the way... The cruise started off in a grandiose
scale, dancing and parties every night. But Penny was a cautious girl, so she
never drank, but just danced the night away.
One night, after they had been at sea for a week, Penny was walking back to her
cabin, when the heel on her left shoe broke throwing her off balance. If that
wasn't enough, the ship chose that moment to tilt to the left. As a result,
Penny was thrown overboard. A hue and a cry were immediately raised, and after
about five minutes they found Penny. Hauling her aboard, the ship's crew
realized that it was too late, poor Penny was dead.
Normally, they would have done a burial at sea, but as I said before, Penny was
a very conscientious girl, and had written a will. In it, she specified that
she wished for her body to be cremated, and kept in a jar on her parent's
fireplace mantel. Her wishes were fulfilled, which just goes to show you that a
Penny saved is a Penny urned.
The other day I was eating in an Italian restaurant when I
accidentally spilled some spaghetti sauce on my favorite white sweater.
I wasn't too distressed, though, because Mr. Wong down on High Street has been
doing my laundry for years, and I knew that he could remove just about any
stain and get it out like it'd never been there.
So I took the sweater down to Wong's Laundry and dropped it off; Mr. Wong said
he'd probably be able to have it cleaned by Thursday. So on Thursday afternoon
after work I stopped by Wong's again.
Mr. Wong looked quite distressed when he saw me. He brought out the sweater
and, apologizing profusely, explained that somehow this stain was beyond even
his power to expunge.
And sure enough, though fainter than before, there was still a distinct red
stain on the sweater. In an attempt to make up for his failure, Mr. Wong
offered to send the sweater to his brother across town, who had been in the
laundry business for an even longer time, and who might have a clue as to the
method of removal of this extraordinarily persistent stain.
The elder Wong brother would rush it through at no extra charge, and should
have it looking as white and clean as new by Friday. So on Friday I went back
to Wong's to pick up my sweater, but when I arrived, Mr. Wong regretfully
informed me that his brother, too, had failed to remove the red blotch.
"No charge," said Wong, "but you must take sweater elsewhere to
clean.
The Moral: ... Two Wongs cannot make a white."
Trouser was normally a happy-go-lucky dog. He would chase
tennis balls, play with other doggies, and eat his dinner without a fuss. He
was a dog without a care. But on that fateful autumn afternoon, it was to be
different. Trouser's owners were walking him along a trail at the park, when
suddenly from out of the bushes jumped a man all dressed in black. He had white
paint on his face, and was gesturing annoyingly at Trouser's masters. This
strange person spoke not a word, but proceeded to pretend that he was trapped
in a box and that he was pulling on a long rope. Seeing the sheer horror on his
masters' faces, Trouser took it upon himself to rectify the situation. With a
low growl he jumped and sank his teeth into this annoying pseudo clown's leg.
Trouser immediately got a sickened look in his eyes and began to vomit wildly.
He then dragged his tongue all over the ground in an effort to remove the man's
foul essence from his mouth. For Trouser had learned that .... a mime is a
terrible thing to taste.
Once upon a time there were two canaries in a cage.
Naturally, one was male and the other female. After many months, the male
decided to meet the female. So he scooted over to her side of the cage and
said,
"Since we're in this together, why don't I move over to your side of the
cage!"
The female canary replied, "No, thanks!!"
So he went back to his side but found he could stay there no longer. Once
again, he moved to her side of the cage. This time he asked,
"I am sorry I was to forward the first time. Why don't we get to know each
other first."
To which she replied again, "No, thanks!"
Resigning himself to return to his side of the cage, he languished about for a
bit then made one final effort. He went halfway across the cage and
stated,
"Well, could we at least talk?"
This time she replied, "Oh, I am so sorry I have been so mean. You see I
just learned I have a canarial disease called, "Chirpies" and I hear
it is untweetable."
In a kingdom far far away, and a long long time ago, a party
was being given. To this party the king had invited everyone in the kingdom to
his castle. And everyone was having a grand time. The wine was flowing, the
tables were overflowing with food, and the dancing was beautiful.
Suddenly, out of thin air a gnarled old man appeared out of thin air. His hands
clutched in tight fists by his body, smoke streaming from his shoulders, he
walked up to the king and said, "How dare you have a party and not invite
your own court wizard! For this insult I curse this castle with the dreaded
Curse of the Fingers. Anyone who attempts to leave here will be rendered limb
from limb by huge disembodied fingers!"
The wizard waved his bony arms about and shouted in a guttural foreign
language. "There!", he said and vanished.
All at once, the people of the kingdom looked to their king. What would he do?
How could he save them. The king pursed his lips and looked about him. Finally,
he turned to his knights and asked for a volunteer to ride to the next kingdom
and plead with their wizard to remove the curse. Of course all of the knights
wished to go. The king selected the knight with the greatest seniority and sent
him on his way.
The knight gathered up all his weapons, put on his best suit of armour and
headed out. As soon as his foot stepped off of the drawbridge, gigantic yellow
fingers appeared from nowhere and ripped him limb from limb.
One after another, each knight attempted to ride out of the castle, each one in
turn was ripped to shreds. Finally, no knights were left.
The king looked about him. "Is there anyone else who would brave this
curse and rescue us from this horrible curse?", he said.
"I will, sir!", said a small boy who had been serving one of the
knights before he died.
The small boy packed up his belongings and provisions for the journey. Since he
was a poor serving boy, and had no horse, he knew he would have to walk. But he
was determined to succeed. As soon as he crossed the drawbridge, the yellow
fingers appeared and tried to rip him apart. They couldn't! Each time the tried
to grab him, the boy wriggled free and continued on his journey!
Several days later, the boy was back at the castle with the neighboring
kingdom's wizard. The king was overjoyed to have the curse lifted and he called
the boy to him.
"How did you escape from those monstrous fingers? All my knights couldn't
get past them and they were killed. How could you do it?"
The boy looked up at the king and replied, "Your majesty, it occurred to
me as the last knight was being killed that the only way to escape this curse
was to LET YOUR PAIGES DO THE WALKING THROUGH THE YELLOW FINGERS."
It was the time of the year for the caretaker of the Church
to clean, fix, maintain, and restore the character of the Church, and this year
those duties included painting the steeple, which had not been done in several
years. He dutifully went about the work, erecting scaffolding, and climbing up,
taking his paint, his brushes, water to clean the brushes, and a bit of
drinking water, since it was a fairly hot day.
While he was painting, he realized that he would not have
enough paint to finish the steeple, and he did not feel at all like climbing
down the scaffolding and going back to the workshop to mix some more paint.
Seeing the water for washing the brushes, he came up with the
idea to make the paint he had go further, so he added the water to his paint,
and continued on.
As he was nearing completion of the steeple, he realized that
the paint he had, albeit watered down, would still not be enough to finish the
job, so he added what was left of his drinking water and finished the job with
just a few drops of paint to spare.
More relieved than anything else, he climbed down the scaffolding
and started to hurry back to his workshop behind the Church, for after all, he
was dehydrated, and his unwashed brushes were beginning to set, when there was
a Clap of Thunder, a Bolt of Lightning, the sky blackened and a heavenly Voice
proclaimed:
Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!
A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes
in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs. The
son is just a head! But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can,
with love and compassion. After 21 years, the son is old enough for his first
drink. Dad takes him to the bar and tearfully tells the son he is proud of
him.
Dad orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar
patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief,
the boy takes his first sip of alcohol. Swoooop! A torso pops out!
The bar is dead silent; then bursts into a whoop of joy. The father, shocked,
begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink"!
The bartender still shakes his head in dismay.
Swoooop! Two arms pops out. The bar goes wild. The father, crying and wailing,
begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant, "Take another drink"!
The bartender ignores the whole affair. By now the boy is getting tipsy, and
with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it.
Swoooop! Two legs pop out.
The bar is in chaos. The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God.
The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left.... then to the
right.... right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs
over him and kills him instantly.
The bar falls silent. The father moans in grief. The bartender sighs and says,
"That boy should have quit while he was a head."
Harvey's grandfather clock suddenly stops working right one
day, so he loads it into his van and takes it to a clock repair shop.
In the shop is a little old man who insists he is Swiss, and has a heavy German
accent. He asks Harvey, "Vat sims to be ze problem?"
Harvey says, "I'm not sure, but it doesn't go 'tick-tocktick -tock'
anymore. Now it just goes 'tick...tick...tick.'"
The old man says, "Mmm-Hm!" and steps behind the counter, where he
rummages around a bit. He emerges with a huge flashlight and walks over the
grandfather clock.
He turns the flashlight on, and shines it directly into the clocks face. Then
he says in a menacing voice, "Ve haf vays of making you tock!"
Two fishermen were out on the lake when one of them dropped
his wallet. As they watched the wallet float down to the depths of the lake, a
carp came along and snatched up the wallet. Soon came another carp who stole it
away and then a third joined in. Remarked one of the fisherman, "That's
the first time I've ever seen carp-to-carp walleting."
One day, an elderly woman was walking along the street,
coming home from the supermarket. Her bag of groceries was especially heavy
that day, and as she passed Nathan Hale's Used Cars, she got an idea that she
could drive herself to the store and save a lot of shoe leather, time and
aching muscles. She walks into the car dealership and, as it just so happens,
gets the owner himself. He asks her what kind of car she wants and she replies,
"Well, sonny, I can't remember the name exactly, but it has something to
do with hate or anger."
The owner replies, "Well, let's see... Oh yes, you want a Plymouth Fury!
We have a couple on the lot. What color do you prefer?"
The lady has some trouble explaining the exact color to him, so she reaches
into her shopping bag, takes out an ear of corn, strips down the shucks and
says, "I want this color sonny."
To which Nathan replies, "Ma'am I'm sorry, but we don't have any in this
color. Could I show you a nice blue one?"
"No son, I want this color."
"But ma'am, they didn't make that color! Maybe a cherry red one would suit
you?" says the owner, obviously worried about losing a sale.
By this time, the old lady gets mad, and starts throwing things at the owner,
thereby chasing him out of the office and into the lot. One of the salesmen,
coming into the office from the back door, notices the disruption and asks the
secretary what the old woman was so upset about.
The secretary replies, "Apparently, Hale hath no Fury like the woman's
corn!"
Mary Poppins was traveling home, but due to worsening
weather, she decided to stop at a hotel for the night. She approached the
receptionist and asked for a room for the night.
"Certainly madam", he replied courteously.
"Is the restaurant open still?" inquired Mary.
"Sorry, no," came the reply, "but room service is available all
night. Would you care to select something from this menu?"
Mary smiled and took the menu and perused it. "Hmm, I would like
cauliflower cheese please," said Mary.
"Certainly madam," he replied.
"And can I have breakfast in bed?" asked Mary politely. The
receptionist nodded and smiled. "In that case, I would love a couple of
poached eggs please," Mary mused. After confirming the order, Mary signed
in and went up to her room for the night.
The night passed uneventfully and next morning Mary came down early to check
out. The same guy was still on the desk.
"Morning madam...sleep well?"
"Yes, thank you," Mary replied.
"Food to your liking?"
"Well, I have to say the cauliflower cheese was exceptional, I don't think
I have had better. Shame about the eggs tho....they really weren't that nice at
all," replied Mary truthfully.
"Oh...well, perhaps you could contribute these thoughts to our Guest
Comments Book.
We are always looking to improve our service and would value your
opinion," said the receptionist.
"OK, I will...thanks!" replied Mary....who checked out, then
scribbled a comment into the book. Waving, she left to continue her
journey.
Curious, the receptionist picked up the book to see the comment Mary had
written.
"Super cauliflower cheese but eggs were quite atrocious!"
Two young men were out in the woods on a camping trip, when
the came upon this great trout brook. They stayed there all day, enjoying the
fishing, which was super.
At the end of the day, knowing that they would be graduating from college soon,
they vowed that they would meet, in twenty years, at the same place and renew
the experience.
Twenty years later, they met and traveled to a spot near where they had been
years before. They walked into the woods and before long came upon a brook. One
of the men said to the other, "This is the place!".
The other replied, "No, it's not!".
The first man said, "Yes, I do recognize the clover growing on the bank on
the other side.
To which the other man replied, "Silly, you can't tell a brook by it's
clover."
There was this guy and he had a girlfriend called Lorraine
who was very pretty and he liked her a lot.
One day he went to work to find that a new girl had started. Her name was
Clearly and she was absolutely gorgeous. He became quite besotted with her and
after a while it became obvious that she was interested in him too.
But this guy was a loyal man and he wouldn't get involved with Clearly while he
was still going out with Lorraine.
He decided that there was nothing for it but to break up with her and get it on
with the new girl.
He planned several times to tell Lorraine but he couldn't bring himself to do
it. One day they went for a walk along the river bank when Lorraine slipped and
fell in to the river. The current carried her off and she drowned.
The guy stopped for a moment by the river and then ran off smiling and singing:
"I can see Clearly now Lorraine has gone"
This guy, Artie, gets tired of working so hard and not
getting anywhere, and seeing all these guys in the Mafia in their fine three
piece suits and fancy cars, decides that he has to join the Mafia.
He goes up to one of the guys and says, " I want to join the Mafia."
The guy answers, " You ever kill any one for money?"
Artie answers, "No."
The guy says, " Well, you either got to be born into the mafia, or you
gotta kill somebody for money."
So Artie says, " How much will you pay me?"
The guy says, " I'm not gonna pay you."
Artie says, " C'mon, just pay me a dollar so I can get in."
The guy says, " Okay, I'll tell you what. You kill somebody, tell me about
it, and if I see it in the morning paper, I'll pay you a dollar."
Artie says, " Oh thank you, thank you!" and heads off on his mission.
He goes to Ralphs Supermarket, sees an old lady pushing a cart, and decides
that she's lived a full life, goes up to her, grabs her round the neck and
chokes her to death.
The bag boy sees him, and chases after him. Artie realizes that he can't out
run the bag boy, turns around, grabs the bag boy by the neck and chokes him to
death.
In the morning paper the headlines read, " ARTIE CHOKES TWO FOR A DOLLAR
AT RALPHS!"
A bunch of cows and bulls are standing in a field. A huge
gust of wind comes along and all the cows fall over, but the bulls just stand
there, bracing themselves against the gale. So all the cows stand up and brush
themselves off and go back to their business. Pretty soon, a tornado blows
through and all of the cows are knocked to the ground, but the bulls just munch
on the grass. Next, a hurricane comes through and all the cows are knocked into
the next pasture. The bulls just say "moo." Finally, one of the cows
walks up to one of the bulls and says, "Moo? What's the mooing deal? How
come the wind always knocks us for a loop and you just stand there unharmed
?" "Isn't it obvious?" the bull replies. "We bulls wobble,
but we don't fall down."
Recently a guy in Paris nearly got away with stealing several
paintings from the Louvre. However, after planning the crime, getting in and
out past security, he was captured only 2 blocks away when his Econoline ran
out of gas. When asked how he could mastermind such a crime and then make such
an obvious error, he replied: "I had no Monet to buy Degas to make the Van
Gogh."
One night, the Potato family sat down to dinner--Mother
Potato and her three daughters. Midway through the meal, the eldest daughter
spoke up. "Mother Potato?" she said. "I have an announcement to
make."
"And what might that be?" said Mother, seeing the obvious excitement
in her eldest daughter's eyes.
"Well," replied the daughter, with a proud but sheepish grin,
"I'm getting married!"
The other daughters squealed with surprise as Mother Potato exclaimed,
"Married! That's wonderful! And who are you marrying, Eldest
daughter?"
"I'm marrying a Russet!"
"A Russet!" replied Mother Potato with pride.
"Oh, a Russet is a fine tater, a fine tater indeed!"
As the family shared in the eldest daughter's joy, the middle daughter spoke
up. "Mother? I, too, have an announcement."
"And what might that be?" encouraged Mother Potato.
Not knowing quite how to begin, the middle daughter paused, then said with
conviction, "I, too, am getting married!"
"You, too!" Mother Potato said with joy. "That's wonderful!
Twice the good news in one evening! And who are you marrying, Middle
Daughter?"
"I'm marrying an Idaho!" beamed the middle daughter.
"An Idaho!" said Mother Potato with joy. "Oh, an Idaho is a fine
tater, a fine tater indeed!"
Once again, the room came alive with laughter and excited plan for the future,
when the youngest Potato daughter interrupted. "Mother? Mother Potato? Um,
I, too, have an announcement to make."
"Yes?" said Mother Potato with great anticipation.
"Well," began the youngest Potato daughter with the same sheepish
grin as her eldest sister before her, "I hope this doesn't come as a shock
to you, but I am getting married, as well!"
"Really?" said Mother Potato with sincere excitement. "All of my
lovely daughters married! What wonderful news! And who, pray tell, are you
marrying, Youngest Daughter?"
"I'm marrying Peter Jennings!"
"Peter Jennings?!" Mother Potato scowled suddenly. "But he's
just a common tater!"
The maharajah of an Indian Province issued a royal decree. He
ordered that no one was to kill any wild animals while he was the country's
leader. The decree was honored until there were so many Bengal Tigers running
loose that the people revolted and threw the maharajah from power. This is the
first known instance of the reign being called on account of the game.
In ancient times there was a community known as the Goodnu's.
As all communities did in these times the Goodnu's lived right on the river
bank for trading, transportation and sustenance. Water was almighty and
worshipped as a God.
One day there was a tremendous hurricane far out in the
ocean. It's ferocity blew a large flock of "Foo" birds way off course
sending them inland many hundreds of miles and in the vicinity of the Goodnu's
community.
The Goodnu people had never seen a "Foo" bird and
were quite curious as to it's sudden and obviously evil presence. The
"Foo" bird, as we all know, is a very ugly, evil-looking bird. This
caused the Goodnu people to become very uneasy believing they did something
wrong to God and that this bird should be avoided.
One day a "Foo" bird flew overhead and screeched:
"Foo, Foo" and shit on a Goodnu's head. The man ran screaming into
the river believing the Holy powers of the river would cleanse him of this evil
turd and its consequences. As soon as the man washed this unholy turd from his
ear canal he suddenly keeled over and died.
The Goodnu's were now convinced of the "Foo" bird's
evilness. The next day a woman was outside and heard: "Foo, Foo".
Before she could react the "Foo" bird dropped a bomb landing a syrupy
turd across her face. Shocked and panicked she ran into the river furiously
washing her face of this sloppy stew. The village watched in horror as this
woman also died once cleansed of the runny turd.
The very next day a village wiseman heard those famous words:
"Foo, Foo". He like others had witnessed the terrible deaths of two
of his villages' people in the last two days. He too was struck right in the
forehead by the "Foo" birds accurately guided turd missile. His first
reaction was confusion and he sprinted towards the river. However, he stopped
short and thought of his obvious demise should he cleanse the turd wafer from
his forehead. He did not cleanse the poo pile from his forehead and lived. So
the wiseman went to the other people of the village, gathered them around and
stated to them: "There is an obvious lesson here my good people.
The moral of this story is: 'If the Foo shits, wear
it.'".
An ancient Babylonian general was once involved in a plot to
overthrow the king. His plot included a number of followers in the upper ranks
of the army. However, his plot was uncovered, and the king threw him in jail.
The king sentenced him to death without a trial.
However, from the jail he was able to secretly contact his followers to arrange
to escape, meet his followers, and attack the king's palace at night. So the
night before his scheduled execution, the general managed to escape from
prison. He fled to a ziggurat several kilometers away, where his followers
would meet him. However, the ziggurat was one of several in the area, and he
wasn't sure if his cohorts would find the right ziggurat. By this time it was
twilight, so he lit a small fire and sent smoke signals to indicate in which
structure he was hiding.
However, the king's loyal soldiers saw the smoke coming from the ziggurat, and
came to arrest him before he could meet his followers. He was executed later
that day.
The moral of the story? WARNING: The searching general has determined that
smoking ziggurats can be extremely hazardous to your stealth.
At a convention, Mike Carruthers had lost his two-way pager.
Thinking someone might have picked it up by accident, he decided to send a
message, warning the other person that they might have the wrong beeper. He
wrote: “Am I Mike Carruthers’ beeper?”
A vulture was getting on a plane with a piece of roadkill
under each wing. The flight attendant looked at the vulture and said, “I’m
sorry, only one carrion per passenger.”
Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there was a kingdom in
which the king was fond of history and ancient things. He would collect
historical objects, dress in royal threads from bygone eras, and generally try
to live ancient traditions.
One day the king issued a royal proclamation, as kings are
wont to do now and then. Of course, he wrote the proclamation in the language
of 200 years ago, rich in antiquated spellings, obsolete words, now-defunct
verb forms, etc.
The general population, of course, could make neither head
nor tail of the proclamation. A vast legal muddle ensued. The courts, called
upon to untangle the mess, pronounced a ruling that, henceforth, all royal
proclamations must be written in modern, currently accepted prose.
In other words, we can't have archaic and edict, too.
Have I told you about the time my friend Sonny bought a
strawberry farm? Well, not only strawberries, but also blueberries,
blackberries, dewberries, boysenberries, loganberries, and a lot more.
It all went well for a while and he made a lot of money, but
he forgot to tell that to the IRS.
So one day a federal truck appeared in the farm and took all
its produce away.
Sonny was desolated. He came to me and said, “Lupin, the
truckload was worth a lot more than what I owed the government.
I tried to reason with them, but they said, ‘We are sorry,
but we came to seize your berries, not to appraise them."
There was this Roman citizen who grew very beautiful
blueberries. They were so outstanding people would come from miles around to
see them and exalt their beauty. This caused the Roman government to send
soldiers to confiscate the berries. When they arrived the citizen said,
"Are you here to admire my berries?" The soldiers answered, "We
come to seize your berries, not to praise them!"
Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, but when they lit
a fire in
the craft it sank-proving once and for all that you can't have your kayak
and heat it, too.
Two boll weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to
Hollywood and
became a famous actor. The other stayed behind in the cotton fields and
never amounted to much. The second one, naturally, became known as the
lesser of two weevils.
A three-legged dog walks into a saloon in the Old West. He
sidles up to
the bar and announces: "I'm looking for the man who shot my paw."
A hungry lion was roaming through the jungle looking for
something to
eat. He came across two men. One was sitting under a tree and reading a
book; the other was typing away on his typewriter. The lion quickly pounced
on the man reading the book and devoured him. Even the king of the jungle
knows that readers digest and writer’s cramp.
There was a zoo in West Virginia which specialized in exotic
animals. For instance, it had a pair of albino toucans. But one day one of the
toucans died, so the zoo owner sent his best assistant, Fred, to find another.
But since the zoo didn't have much money, Fred couldn't afford to either fly or
take a cruise ship to Africa, so he took a rowboat, and rowed across the
Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row. When he got to Africa he used a machete to
hack and slash his way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack
and slash. He came across a clearing where he saw Tarzan painting stripes on a
zebra.
Now, whether Tarzan was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story.
"Hey Tarzan," Fred said. "Know where I can
find an albino toucan?" And Tarzan interrupted his work long enough to
point to a path and say, "Ugh. Five miles." So Fred made his way down
the heavily overgrown path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash,
until he found an albino toucan. He caught it and headed back, hack and slash,
hack and slash, hack and slash. When he came to the clearing where Tarzan was
painting stripes on the zebra -- and whether he was painting black stripes on a
white zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome
of the story -- he said, "Thanks, Tarzan." And Tarzan just said
"ugh." And Fred continued back to the coast, hack and slash, hack and
slash, hack and slash. Then he rowed back across the Atlantic, row, row, row,
row, row. And he delivered the albino toucan to the zoo.
A few years passed, and one day the zoo's pygmy giraffe,
Zella, died. Fred was now manager of the zoo, so he sent his son, Fred Jr., to
Africa to get another. So Fred Jr. took the rowboat across the Atlantic, row,
row, row, row, row. When he got to Africa he used a machete to hack and slash
his way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash. He
came across a clearing where he saw Tarzan painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether Tarzan was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story.
"Hey Tarzan," Fred Jr. said. "Know where I can
find a pygmy giraffe?" And Tarzan interrupted his work long enough to
point to a path and say, "Ugh. Seven miles." So Fred Jr. made his way
down the heavily overgrown path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and
slash, until he found a pygmy giraffe. He caught it and headed back, hack and
slash, hack and slash, hack and slash. When he came to the clearing where
Tarzan was painting stripes on the zebra -- and whether he was painting black
stripes on a white zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to
the outcome of the story -- he said, "Thanks, Tarzan." And Tarzan
just said "ugh." And Fred Jr. continued back to the coast, hack and
slash, hack and slash, hack and slash. Then he rowed back across the Atlantic,
row, row, row, row, row. And he delivered the pygmy giraffe to the zoo.
Some more years passed, and one day the zoo's bald gorilla
died. These things happen. Fred was still in charge, so again he designated
Fred Jr. to go to Africa to get a new one. And Fred Jr. took the rowboat across
the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row. When he got to Africa he used a machete
to hack and slash his way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash,
hack and slash. He came across a clearing where he saw Tarzan painting stripes
on a zebra.
Now, whether Tarzan was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story.
"Hey Tarzan," Fred Jr. said. "Know where I can
find a bald gorilla?" And Tarzan interrupted his work long enough to point
to a path and say, "Ugh. 14 miles." So Fred Jr. made his way down the
heavily overgrown path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until
he found a bald gorilla. He caught it and headed back, hack and slash, hack and
slash, hack and slash. When he came to the clearing where Tarzan was painting
stripes on the zebra -- and whether he was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story -- he said, "Thanks, Tarzan." And Tarzan just said
"ugh." And Fred Jr. continued back to the coast, hack and slash, hack
and slash, hack and slash. Then he rowed back across the Atlantic, row, row,
row, row, row. And he delivered the bald gorilla to the zoo.
More years passed. Fred retired and Fred Jr. took over. So
when the zoo's fabulous two-horned unicorn died, Fred Jr. sent his son, Fred
III, to go get a new one. And Fred III took the rowboat across the Atlantic,
row, row, row, row, row. When he got to Africa he used a machete to hack and
slash his way through the jungle, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and
slash. He came across a clearing where he saw Tarzan painting stripes on a
zebra.
Now, whether Tarzan was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story.
"Hey Tarzan," Fred III said. "Know where I can
find a fabulous two-horned unicorn?" And Tarzan interrupted his work long
enough to point to a path and say, "Ugh. 43 miles." So Fred III made
his way down the heavily overgrown path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack
and slash, until he found a fabulous two-horned unicorn. He caught it and
headed back, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash. When he came to
the clearing where Tarzan was painting stripes on the zebra -- and whether he
was painting black stripes on a white zebra or white stripes on a black zebra
is not important to the outcome of the story - he said, "Thanks,
Tarzan." And Tarzan just said "ugh." And Fred III continued back
to the coast, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash. Then he rowed
back across the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row. And he delivered the
fabulous two-horned unicorn to the zoo.
Years went by. And one day the zoo's Incredibly Ugly Pink
Hippopotamus died. Fred III was now running the zoo, but he didn't have any
children, so he sent his wife, Frieda, to go get a new one. And Frieda took the
rowboat across the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row. When she got to Africa
she used a machete to hack and slash her way through the jungle, hack and
slash, hack and slash, hack and slash. She came across a clearing where she saw
Tarzan painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether Tarzan was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story.
"Hey Tarzan," Frieda said. "Know where I can
find an incredibly ugly pink hippopotamus, just as ugly as our last one?"
And Tarzan interrupted his work long enough to point to a path and say,
"Ugh. Three miles." So Frieda made her way down the heavily overgrown
path, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and slash, until she found an
incredibly ugly pink hippopotamus; uglier, if possible, than the one the zoo
had had. She caught it and headed back, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack
and slash. When she came to the clearing where Tarzan was painting stripes on
the zebra -- and whether he was painting black stripes on a white zebra or
white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the story --
she said, "Thanks, Tarzan." And Tarzan just said "ugh." And
Frieda continued back to the coast, hack and slash, hack and slash, hack and
slash. Then she rowed back across the Atlantic, row, row, row, row, row. And
she delivered the incredibly ugly pink hippopotamus to the zoo.
Still more years passed. Fred III and Frieda never did have
any children, But they did have grandchildren. So when the zoo's famous
mile-long snake died, they sent the grandchildren, Sam, Sally and Clarence, to
go get a new one. They took the rowboat across the Atlantic, row, row, row,
row, row. They used their machetes to cut through the jungle, hack and slash,
hack and slash, hack and slash. And they came to a clearing where Tarzan was
painting stripes on a zebra.
Now, whether Tarzan was painting black stripes on a white
zebra or white stripes on a black zebra is not important to the outcome of the
story.
But what it does go to show is.....
Tarzan stripes forever.
So, there's this yellow toad wandering around in the forest,
kind of pissed off because he doesn't want to be yellow. Life would be easier
if he was brown or green like the other toads. He'd sure be less visible to
predators for one thing.
Any way ... this yellow toad bumps into a Fairy Godmother,
like you do, and he begs her; "Fairy Godmother please make me green like
the other toads. I am tired of being so visible to predators and such."
The Fairy Godmother whips out her magic wand and says
"Abracapokus! You're green."
The toad looks down and sees that he is green except for his
package, which is still yellow.
He says to the Fairy Godmother "Wait a minute; my meat
& two veg are still yellow."
To this the Fairy Godmother said, "I don't do willies,
go and see the Wizard Of Oz for that.
The toad thanks her and hops off on his way.
There also happens to be a purple bear wandering around in
the very same forest, must be one of them enchanted forests and he encounters
the very same Fairy Godmother.
He implores her; "Fairy Godmother, please make me brown
like the other bears. None of the lady bears want to be seen with me on account
of the hunters can spot me from a mile off."
She being a nice Fairy Godmother, takes out her magic wand
and says, "You're brown."
The bear looks down and sees that he is, in fact, brown with
the exception of the old twig and berries, they remain purple.
He says, "What about my wedding tackle, they're still
purple!
She says, "I don't do genitals, you will have to see the
Wizard of Oz for that."
To this the bear replies, "Well that's just dandy but
how do I find the Wizard of Oz?"
The Fairy Godmother answers; "That's easy, just follow
the yellow prick toad."
A zoo receives a gnu as a gift. Since the new gnu was not
expected, they had to scramble to find a place to put it until they could get a
proper habitat built for it. They found a storeroom that was empty save for a
large pile of floor tiles. When they checked on the gnu in the morning, they
found that the floor tiles had been rather professionally laid. They phoned the
donor.
"We put the gnu in a storeroom, and it appears that the animal had lain
the tiles during the night. Is there anything... 'special' about this
gnu?"
To which the donor replied...
It's a typical gnu, and tiler too.
A young woman got married a few years back. Her husband was a
service representative for a well-known computer firm, and was kept out of the
house a great deal by equipment that kept breaking, his beeper, and his boss.
About a year ago, his brother got back from an expedition in
central Australia, collecting sand specimens for his dissertation in
comparative soil mechanics. He had nowhere else to stay and no money, so he
moved in with the happy couple. That's when the trouble began.
This brother really liked baked ham. But he always remembered
the way his father died, choking on a clove bud which had decorated the top of
the ham. If there were just a few cloves in the ham, he wouldn't say anything.
But if there were more than three, he would get up and storm
out of the room.
One day the brother came home late from work. He had been making
repairs to his triaxial test machine, and boy was he hungry! The problem was
that the baked ham had four cloves, and (because he was late) it was too well
done.
Our intrepid service representative got home later that
night, and found his wife making airline reservations to go home to her mother
in East Snapbeckon.
"What are you making reservations for?" He asked.
"I'm booking over that four-clove leaver, though I've
overcooked before!"
There was this person who owned a bluish colored Volvo. It
was a '72, however, making it quite old and even Volvos don't last forever.
When he was driving home one afternoon and the engine fell
through the engine mount, his wife brought up the subject of buying a new car.
"Well, I've really grown partial to this car,
dear."
"But, honey, that car is going to fall apart any
minute."
The argument went on for a while and the husband finally
agreed that he would buy a new car, but he would only buy another bluish
colored Volvo.
It had to have the exact shade of blue or he wasn't
interested. And so, his quest began.
“Nope. Are you sure they're made in that color?" asked
all the Volvo dealers in New York. He went to Connecticut and received the same
line. He went to Rhode Island, only to hear "Nope. Had one last week. Couldn't
sell it, so we gave it to a junk dealer." The man ran to the junk dealer
just in time to see the car of his dreams crushed.
He travelled through Vermont. "Nope. Can't get one
here." He tried New Hampshire. "I don't think they make them." He
went into Maine. "I don't have one, but Charlie might. He's the Volvo
dealer up in Caribou."
Anyone ever told you about Caribou, Maine? It is freezing up
there. It is in the middle of nowhere. Now, at this point, a large storm system
was moving into the area and the husband was trapped in the storm.
Two days later the dealer arrived at his shop and found this
guy standing by the door. When the dealer opened the door the husband saw it. Right
in the middle of the showroom was his bluish colored Volvo. Perfect! He told
the man of his quest, gave him the money, and was about to leave when the
dealer asked "Why did you spend so much time searching for this colored
Volvo? Why did it have to be this sort of bluish color?"
The husband smiled and said, as he drove off, "Well,
there's something about an aqua Volvo, man..."
One day the
Shah of a middle-eastern country decided his son the Shan was old enough to
have a body guard. He searched his kingdom until he found the right person for
the job. As it turned out, he was well suited for the task and watched after
the Shan dutifully. As the Shan got older, the body guard decided he could
probably slip off for awhile without consequence. As luck would have it the
Shan was epileptic , had a fit and died while he was gone. When the Shah found
out about it, he called the body guard and asked:
"Where
were you when the fit hit the Shan?"
During the invasion of Sicily in World War II, General George
("Blood 'n' Guts") Patton was preparing to take the city of Palermo. He
checked with his meteorologists and learned the day he had chosen would be
incredibly rainy. So he issued an order to place copies of the New York
"Times" immediately beneath the tailgates of the transports carrying
his troops. In this way the men could keep their feet dry.
His staff was mystified. Why the "Times"? Why not
the New York "Daily News"? Patton was adamant; and one did not argue
with the General. As five tons of old copies of the "Times" were being
loaded, the General issued one of his greatest quotes to the assembled war
correspondents:
"THESE
ARE THE 'TIMES' THAT DRY MEN'S SOLES."
Once upon a time, in Days of Yore, which is located in a
rather backwoods area of the country, there lived a remarkably innocent young
man named Nathaniel. Now Nathaniel, or Nate, as he was often called, one day
came of age, and his oppressive and none too dutiful legal guardians just
turned him out into the street, as it were. Before giving him the boot,
however, they did take the trouble to inform him that he was, in fact, the heir
to what was locally considered a sizable fortune in rural real estate. This
comparatively immense farm tract was being held for him and currently managed
by a man who turned out to be a rather distant cousin, but who was kindly and
surprisingly helpful, eventually doing most of what needed to be done to start
Nate out in business on the farm.
Very shortly afterward, however, the cousin died, leaving
Nate alone with little experience and very few ideas. Poor Nate was absolutely
in a quandary as to what sort of reliable cash crop to plant on his land. He
had heard that one or two of his neighbors were raising a certain (shall we
say) “herb'', whose production was said to be uncommonly lucrative. Our hero
wasn't really into haute cuisine, though, so in search of an expert opinion, he
consulted a local soothsayer, an elderly woman whose character was completely
beyond question, if you follow my meaning. At the urging afforded by about a
third of Nate's annual income, she gazed vacantly into her crystal ball for
most of an hour, until she finally intoned,
SOW ROPE,
NATEY-O!
[A pun on "No Soap, Radio", which is pretty
obscure.]
Henry the Plantationer was the Lord of the best flower
plantation in all the land, but he had lost his family's corner on the market
of Fleur de Lis (hard won by his father).
This loss enraged his cousin Richard, a nasty, deformed, but
clever man who was lord of the fields of white roses, and who raised 400 pound
attack boars for a hobby.
Henry's other cousins, who lorded over the fields of red
roses were merely annoyed. They felt that Henry was a good man. He was a quiet
visionary gentleman, with a good rapport with the heavenly father.
As time passed, Richard's fury grew, and he openly proclaimed
that he, not Henry should run the plantation. This of course caused many bad
feelings.
These feelings came to a head one spring evening, when Henry
was hosting a fancy feast, with all of the local royalty attending except (for
obvious reasons) Richard.
When this fest was in full swing, Richard burst in, with five
of his biggest most vicious attack boars. And they tore up the feast, and the
people turning it into a grotesque study of blood and flesh. When this was done
and only Richard and a few others were left alive, Gruesome Richard proclaimed
"Now is the dinner of our wistful gent wrent gory
asunder by this ton of pork!"
[The story draws from several Shakespeare Histories and the
saying from his Richard the Third, "Now is the winter of our discontent
made glorious summer by this Son of York."]
President Eisenhower's Mother had a sister; this lady
constantly had trouble in bright sunshine because her nose was so sensitive
that the skin peeled off every summer.
Her doctor made a simple remedy, a small cone of paper (like
a Dunce's cap) which she stuck onto her nose at the first sign of sun.
Do you believe this?
I didn't until Mick Jagger sang about it.
Ike's Aunt gets nose hat is fact, son
Once upon a time there was a flock of geese. Like all geese,
they would fly south for the winter and north for the summer. And, like all
geese, they would fly in one of those impressive "V" formations with
the lead gander out in front.
Well, it seems that there was one goose named DeeDee (or Dee
for short), who had a great deal of difficulty following the lead gander's
instructions. Maybe it was due to a mechanical defect in her (sorry ladies)
wings, or maybe it was just brain damage due to flying through polluted air.
At any rate, when the flock would turn right, Dee would fly
the other way, often crashing into the other geese in the formation. Needless
to say, this spoiled a great looking formation and proved to be *very
embarrassing*. In order to take care of the problem, the lead gander told her
that she would have to fly at the end of the formation, thus avoiding any
mid-air crashes and saving the lead gander much face. When describing the
problem and his solution to it, the lead gander told a reporter from the
Audubon Society magazine:
"Dee, who flaps last, flaps left"
Late in the previous century, the well-known folklorist
Vivian McNabb was collecting ballads and tales in the Scottish Highlands, and
found a previously unknown musical instrument, something in the
lyre-lute-dulcimer range. It was sitting unused as a family heirloom, and the
family who owned it no longer knew exactly how it should be tuned or played,
nor did anyone else in the region. McNabb purchased it, and showed it in every
village he passed through. Nobody could give him completely accurate
information, and nobody could tune it or play it, but some clues began to fall
in place. Several people mentioned Seamus O'Pernokkety, who lived in Ireland,
as a great authority on stringed instruments. McNabb determined to go over and
consult Seamus.
(Insert shaggy
description of McNabb's difficult travels, and the frustrating search for
Seamus O'Pernokkety.)
Finally, weak and confused, McNabb stumbled up to the door of
the cabin at the top of the steep hill. Success at last! Seamus recognized the
instrument, and agreed to tune it and teach McNabb how to play, but only if
McNabb would serve as his apprentice for a full year.
(Insert description of
McNabb's arduous year of servitude at the feet of his musical guru.)
When the year was up, Seamus took the instrument out of the
cupboard, spent the rest of the day tuning it up, and played all night and all
the next day. It was the most remarkable, beautiful tone McNabb had ever heard.
He stayed on another month, until he too had some proficiency at playing. At
last they parted.
McNabb skipped and jumped down the hill, exulting in his
newfound skill in playing the instrument, and in the precious object itself.
So unbridled was he in his joyous carriage, that he tripped
and fell, and went tumbling arse-over-teacup down into a ravine. A large
boulder finally broke his fall, and also his leg. The instrument, however, did
not seem to be damaged. But when he tried to play it, it proved to be badly out
of tune, and he could wring from it nothing but harsh discords. There was no
help for it: he painfully crawled all the way back up the terrible hill,
arriving at Seamus's cottage late that evening.
"Oh, Seamus, the most terrible thing has happened!"
he gasped out, and explained about his accident. "Please, maestro, help me
in my despair.
Retune the instrument! And perhaps do something about my leg,
if you can."
"Certainly, McNabb, I can set your leg, and you're
welcome to food and lodging while it mends. But I hope you realize I can't work
on that instrument again."
"But why not? Please, you must."
"No, I cannot. I thought it was well known:
O'Pernokkety tunes but once."
In the 23rd century the solar system was wracked by constant
warring between the fragmented states of the Asteroid Belt.
Particularly successful in these wars was one tribe (I'll
call them Joes) which managed to total up a surprising war record despite its
amazingly primitive weaponry through sheer ferocity.
After having dispatched a fleet from a rival nation (call
them Jacks), the Joe general went over to his adversary's flagship to sign a
treaty of peace. After the diplomatic niceties were taken care of, the Jack
general (who had been wounded in the previous day's fighting) took a moment of
his time to talk shop and mention his injury. Their exchange follows:
Said the Jack general, "What was that laser you sawed me
with last night?"
Came the reply, "That was no laser--that was my
knife!"
Once upon a time, there was an old Chinese man who lived in
an even older shop in a back alley of San Francisco's Chinatown. Mr. Chan (for
that was the name by which he was known to his neighbors) ran an Oriental
novelty store. He stocked all of the standard Far Eastern trinkets, such as
paper kites shaped like fish, cheap imitation silk kimonos, Japanese lanterns,
chopsticks, and so on, but both his heart and his profit were in his collection
of wooden figurines. Fortunate contacts, mostly relatives in Taiwan, had given
him access to the finest woods of the Orient, and the most skilled carvers. His
greatest treasures were tiny statuettes, no bigger than your thumb, carved from
teak wood. These were totally unique to his establishment, for he had a cousin
who owned the finest stand of teak trees in Burma, and, his greatest secret, a
distant relative by marriage was a blind sculptor who specialized in carving
these miniatures. Mr. Chan's statues had made him rather well known among
connoisseurs of Oriental curiosities, and provided him with a comfortable
living.
Mr. Chan's life had continued undisturbed for years, and all
seemed most serene. Every day he would come down from his bedroom above the
shop, unlock the door, and wait for business. He would sell a few cheap
knickknacks to tourists, and, perhaps once a month, a buyer would arrive to
look over his collection of statuettes. Such a special customer would receive
Mr. Chan's full attention, and they would talk for hours about the finer points
of Oriental carving. Usually the visit would end with a sale, and Mr. Chan
would retire happily to his bed.
One day, though, disaster struck. Mr. Chan came downstairs,
and discovered that his store had been vandalized! The door was ripped right
off of its hinges and lay 20 feet down the street. Paper lanterns were ripped
apart, coolie hats smashed to straw, and some fine, delicate Japanese screens
were riddled with holes. But worst of all, the glass display case in which Mr.
Chan kept his figurines had been shattered, and all of the figurines were
stolen!
Mr. Chan, though momentarily shocked, was made of stern stuff.
He called the police at once, and consoled himself that, wise businessman that
he was, he was fully insured. While this was meager compensation for the loss
of his beloved statues, he hoped that the police would be able to recover them.
The police, however, despite a painstaking search, could discover but one clue:
tiny, muddy, childlike footprints leading from the door to the display case. The
police suspected a youth gang, but could find no further evidence.
Mr. Chan was forced to disappoint several of his regular
customers while waiting for the next shipment of statues from Taiwan, but they
finally arrived, and Mr. Chan was very excited, for these were even finer than
any he had previously received. He carefully arranged them in his display case
(he had, of course, replaced the broken one), looked over them with pride, and
retired for the night, secure in the knowledge that his new burglar alarm
system would protect them.
In the middle of the night, Mr. Chan was jolted to
consciousness by the sudden blare of the alarm. He wrapped a robe around
himself and rushed downstairs, but too late! The display case was again
smashed, the statues gone, and a set of wet, muddy, miniscule footprints lead
out of the shattered door. Mr. Chan attempted to give chase, but failed to
catch the culprits. The police were again unable to turn up any clues but the
childlike footprints, which seemed particularly incongruous in the face of the
fact that Mr. Chan's brand new steel reinforced door had been burst open
seemingly without effort.
Mr. Chan had lost confidence in San Francisco's finest. He
replaced the security precautions, making them even stronger, but determined to
take direct action. Thus, when the next shipment of statuettes arrived some
months later, delayed by a blight on the Burmese teak groves and a typhoon in
the China Sea, Mr. Chan had a plan of action. He placed the figurines in the new
display case and concealed himself behind a curtain made of plastic beads, and
waited, ancient Chinese harquebus loaded and at the ready. Any thief who dared
to venture into his store tonight would be in for a nasty surprise!
The hours passed. Mr. Chan, despite good intentions, dropped
off to sleep and the harquebus slipped off of his lap and slid behind a large
pile of Javanese sandals. Then, all of a sudden there was a tremendous ripping
noise, followed closely by the high pitched scream of the burglar alarm!
Mr. Chan leaped to his feet, clutching for his weapon, but he
could not find it! The lights, activated by the alarm system, flashed on,
revealing to Mr. Chan a sight which made his blood freeze. Running quickly
towards the display case, in a crouch to get through the low door, was a
tremendous grizzly bear. Saliva dripped from its yellowed fangs and Mr. Chan
was almost overcome by the greasy stench of its fur. Despite its huge size, the
bear moved swiftly, almost delicately...on little tiny feet no bigger than
those of a ten year old child. The bear reached the display case and, with a
single swipe of its fearsome paw, smashed the security glass. It reached inside
and rather clumsily gathered up all of the figurines. Then, with an almost
balletic move, it spun round on its tiny feet and prepared to leave the store,
no more than ten seconds after it had entered.
Mr. Chan was momentarily unnerved by the sudden appearance of
the bear, but the courage of generations of Chinese warriors flowed in his
veins, brought to the fore by the desecration and theft of his most prized
possessions. Taking no head for his personal safety, caring not at all that he
was frail and unarmed, he leaped out from behind the bed curtain and, in a
voice so filled with outrage that it even overcame the screaming sirens of the
burglar alarm system, shouted:
"Stop right where you are, boyfoot bear with teak of
Chan!"
Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of the Pearls, there lived
an extremely cultured pearl named Michael. Michael was a pearl of high ideals
and great aspirations, and, in the hopes of better serving his fellow pearls,
he went to law school, graduated, and opened a legal clinic. He became well known
for his charitable services to less fortunate pearls. But alas, after a few
years, he began to burn out. He paid less and less attention to his cases. Eventually,
he dropped out completely and became a beachcomber, spending his days lying on
the strand with grains of sand sticking to his filthy, unwashed body. And his
relatives, filled with sorrow at this sight, all chanted,
A gritty pearl is Michael, LLD.
Hans and Gretchen were walking along the shore one Sunday
afternoon when they spotted a dock projecting into the harbor. They decide to
walk to the end of the dock and sit down to rest (chat, have a smoke or
whatever).
Gretchen, in her infinite boredom, suggests to Hans, “While
we walk to the end of the dock, why don't you count the number of slats used to
build it, and I'll count the number of slits between the slats?''
Hans replies, “Ja, sehr gut, I will count the slats, and you
will count the slits.''
So the couple merrily troops down the dock. Hans counts, “One
slat!''
Gretchen counts, “One slit!''
“Two slats!''
“Two slits!''
And, well, you know how the natural numbers work. Eventually
Hans and Gretchen approach the end of the dock.
“327 slats!''
“327 slits!''
“328 slats!''
They reach the end of the dock. Gretchen is puzzled.
“Hans! There are no more slits! What does it mean?''
Hans turns to Gretchen and says (brace yourselves),
“When you're out of slits, you're out of pier!''
Once upon a time, these two women were talking and the one
asks the other how many times she's been married, and the reply was 4. “Four
times!” exclaimed the first girl, “why so many?”
So the other girl said:
“Well, I first got married when I was very young, and I
married this wonderful man who was a banker. However, one day just a few weeks
after we were married, his bank was robbed and he was shot and killed.”
“Oh my gosh, that's terrible” the first girl said.
“Well, it wasn't that tragic. Soon after that, I started
seeing another man who performed in the circus. He was really a great guy, but
he lived pretty dangerously because he performed his high-wire act without a
net. Well, a few weeks after we got married, he was performing a show and
suddenly a gust of wind came by and knocked him off his wire and he was killed.”
“Your second husband was killed too?!!? That's horrible!”
“Yes, it was terrible, but at the funeral I fell in love with
the minister and we got married soon after that. Unfortunately, one Sunday
while he was walking to church, he was hit by a car and killed.”
“Three??? Three husbands of yours were killed? How could you
live through all that?”
“It was pretty tough, but then I met my present husband. And
he's a wonderful man. I think we'll live a long happy life together.”
“And what does your present husband do for a living?”
“He's a mortician.”
“A mortician? I don't understand something here. First you
marry a banker, then a circus performer, then a minister, and now a mortician? Why
such a diverse grouping of husbands?”
“Well, if you think
about it it's not too hard to understand...
One for the
money...
Two for the
show...
Three to get
ready...
And four to
go!”
A group of guys used to get together once a week to play
poker. Well, one of the guys died; but his ghost continued to join in the poker
games as before. On one of these evenings, the ghost got five beautiful hearts
in his very first hand, and he bet his stack.
Unfortunately, one of the flesh-and-blood players had a full
house and raked in the pot -- another case where the spirit was willing but the
flush was weak.
It seems there were two frogs sitting on a lily pad, when all
of a sudden, a fly came along. One frog put out his tongue, ate the fly, and
started laughing hysterically. Soon the other frog joined in the laughter.
Later in the day, the other frog ate a fly and the two frogs
burst out in laughter. As time went on, the frogs enjoyed the flies so much
that the sight of a fly would cause them to double up with pleasure (if it's
possible for frogs to double up!). But of course, the most pleasure came when
the fly was actually eaten.
A third frog hopped up to the first two and asked what was so
funny. The first frog answered "Time." "Huh?" asked the
third frog.
The second frog explained: “Time's fun when you’re having
flies"
Back in the days of the old west, somewhere in Kansas, there
lived a rancher named Fred Holt.
One day Fred found himself in need of supplies so he headed
off to town to restock. After picking up all he needed, Fred decided to stop
off at the local saloon for a warm one (no refrigerators in the old west).
As he was standing there quietly drinking his beer, who
should approach but his neighbor Sam Leed. Now Sam was in a vile mood
concerning a certain fence that Fred had recently erected. Sam felt that open
range should remain open and told Fred this in no uncertain terms. A violent
argument ensued, ending only when the two parties were pulled off of each other
and escorted out of town.
Fred went on home and settled in for the night, but about
midnight was suddenly awakened by a commotion. He looked out and discovered
that his house was on fire. Quickly he gathered his family and managed to get
them all to safety. The house was a total loss, however. Fred hitched up his
wagon and headed off to town. When he told the people what had happened, they
were outraged. There was law coming into Kansas and this wasn't tolerable. A
posse was immediately formed and Sam was arrested.
Now it just so happened that that great detective Charlie
Chan happened to be passing through town on his way to California. It seemed
that something was funny about this case, so he decided to stay awhile and
investigate. He headed out to Fred's ranch and proceeded to look for clues.
Right away, it was apparent that the fire had been set. An empty kerosene can
and a suspicious odor said that this was no accident. Poking around a bit, Mr
Chan found buried in the dirt an old, somewhat decomposing breechcloth,
possibly discarded by one of the conscript labor party that had built the
railroad. Most interesting, since the railroad tracks were ten miles distant.
He was onto something, but needed another clue to tie it up. He found it in the
form of a handbill, crumpled and discarded in the corner of the barn.
Unfolding it he read "Have you seen this coin? This 1832
half dollar is worth over $1000. We will pay you hard cash for this coin and
others like it. Write for free list. J. Abernathy, coin broker, Boston".
Now he had all he needed to free Sam. He headed back toward
town. When he arrived, he noticed that no one was around. The town was
deserted, and worse still, the jail was empty, its door smashed. Realizing that
trouble was brewing, Charlie started running. As he neared Hanging Rock, he
could hear the angry roar of mob justice.
He entered the clearing and fought his way through the crowd
while yelling "Stop. You are making a big mistake. You are about to hang
the wrong man. The real culprit is The Lone Ranger."
The crowd stopped and gasped. Sam, a rope already placed
around his neck, looked visibly relieved. The mob leader looked down and asked
"The Lone Ranger? How could that possibly be?"
Charlie paused, smiled, and replied "It has to be. All
the clues point to it...
A fiery 'stead with the spite of Leed
A clout of dust
And a hearty 'Buy old Silver'
Who else could it have been?"
Once upon a time, bad King John raised a mighty army and set
out to conquer the known world. After a series of successful campaigns, the
remaining kings realized that their lone efforts would never prevail. They had
to band together under the leadership of the best general they had -
"George-the-Turk".
George the Turk had promised that he would defeat bad King
John's army and would place him on a rack - in a public display - so that no
one would ever again try to conquer the world.
While George the Turk was assembling his army and scouting
out bad King John, he also ordered his engineers to design and build the
largest rack here-to-fore made. The rack was then fitted with wheels and
required 40 horses to pull it. When all was ready, George the Turk set out to
do battle.
Bad King John, who was camped by a river enjoying the spoils
of his latest victory, had not yet gotten word of George the Turk's army. George
the Turk knew that his army must attack quickly before Bad King John could
prepare a defense. But, alas, the 40 horse team pulling the large rack could
not keep up with the troops. George the Turk ordered more horses to be teamed,
but, still they lagged. George the Turk remembered that Hannibul was not too
far away in the mountains with a herd of elephants. Elephants would be better
than horses for pulling the rack. So, George the Turk sent his
second-in-command to Hannibul to rent enough elephants for the job. Hannibul
agreed and also sent along his best elephant handler.
This elephant handler quickly realized the importance of his
unique position in George the Turk's army and insisted that he be given the
title of "elephant engineer" and a huge pay raise. George the Turk
agreed with the title and the pay raise.
The rack, powered by elephants and driven by the
"elephant engineer" , kept pace with the rapidly moving army.
Late one night they arrived at the enemy camp by the river. George
the Turk deployed his troops to cut off any avenue of escape and issued the
order to attack at dawn - on his command. He also ordered the rack to be
positioned on the highest hill overlooking bad King John's camp. This site was
the perfect spot to publically display bad King John - to show the world what
happens to anyone who dares to try to conquer the world.
With dawn approaching George the Turk goes to the top of the
hill beside the rack so that everyone can see his command to attack: when his
sword drops ---ATTACK !!!!!
All is quiet. The enemy camp is asleep. Every man is waiting
for the signal. The first ray of sunlight strikes the helmet of George the Turk.
He draws his sword slowly and holds it over his head. The sunlight gleams off
the blade --- and scares the elephants that are hitched to the rack. They start
trumpeting and rearing and the elephant engineer can't control then. He drops
the reins and clings onto the rack for dear life. The rack breaks loose from
the team and starts rolling down the hill -- straight for the enemy camp.
All this noise wakes bad King John. He orders an aide to go
outside the tent to see what is the cause. The aide takes a hard look, comes
back into the tent, and reports:
"As near as I can tell -- it's a rambling rack from
George the Turk with an elephant engineer" !!!
There was once a very influential farmer in an obscure part
of China.
He had a problem, for which he sought the counsel of the two
wise men in town. So he summons the two wise men, Hing, who is a scientist, and
Ming, who is a sorcerer, and requests that they find a cure for his chickens
who are losing their feathers and dying.
Hing decides to pay a visit to his mentor at the Agricultural
Extension of the local Community College, under whom he studied many years ago.
The mentor recommends the book "Everything You Always Wanted to Know About
Diseases of Chickens, But Were Afraid to Ask".
So Hing visits the library, borrows the book, and finds
inside the report of a study that finds that feeding the chickens with an
infusion of gum tree leaves is often a cure for chickens losing their feathers.
Meanwhile back at the ranch, Ming reads obscure writings of
ancient wise men, he meditates, and he reads tarot cards. He also tries to read
the entrails of a fetal pig. Getting no inspiration he uses his old standby,
reading tea leaves. In a spark of discovery, he decides that an infusion of gum
tree leaves is the cure.
On the appointed day, at the appointed time, and at the
appointed place, the two wise men report back to the influential Chinese
farmer.
Ming reports "As gum sticks to tables and chairs, so
shall an infusion of gum tree leaves make feathers stick to chickens." Hing
agrees, saying "Four out of five ornithologists recommend sugarless
infusions of gum tree leaves for their chickens who lose their feathers." The
influential Chinese farmer is ecstatic, for the two wisest men in town are of a
single mind.
He decides to carry out their advice, and it does not succeed.
The moral of this story is "All of Hing's courses and all of Ming's ken
couldn't get gum tea to feather a hen."
A certain African tribe, mostly swineherds and fishermen,
lived on the shores of a bay; the bay had treacherous currents and water turgid
with sand, but fishing was good and the tribe prospered. They attributed this
to their sacrifices -- a prize boar each year to every tribal god except the
sea-god, who got a gorilla. (A wise chieftain a few generations back had
substituted gorilla sacrifice for human).
One year, the tribesmen could not capture a gorilla. The
chieftain asked the tribal wise-woman, the surviving member of a Swedish
explorer couple who had gone native and lived with the tribe for many happy years,
if they should substitute their best boar for the gorilla. She was strongly
against it, even to the point of suggesting herself as a human sacrifice; he
was horrified and reminded her that porcine offerings had always pleased the
other gods.
The time of sacrifice arrived. With prayers for the sea-god's
mercy, the shamans went through the usual rituals with the boar instead of the
gorilla, culminating in its being taken to the middle of the bay and having its
throat cut as it was thrown in. Nothing went wrong and the next year was as
prosperous as usual. After that, pigs replaced gorillas.
MORAL: Let a swine be your gorilla in a grainy, grainy bay.
And if your Swede decries, just tell her that a swine will always pay...
When South Vietnam was nearing its end, and General Minh was
in charge, a popular artist came to him and asked to make a statue in his honor
(at government expense).
"Please, General Minh, you are the people's hero,"
he told him.
"Yes, but make the sculpture in bronze," replied
the general.
So the artist made the sculpture, but when it was unveiled in
a small private ceremony, the general was furious. For the sculpture was made
in gold.
"I want bronze," he said, "I want
bronze!"
The artist went away in a hurry, deeply impressed with this
show of humility. But he still wanted to honor the general, so he made the next
sculpture in silver.
But again the general was furious.
"I want bronze," he said, "I want
bronze!"
This time the artist made the sculpture out of bronze as asked.
When the sculpture was revealed to the general, he was overjoyed at the
wonderful bronze likeness. The artist then complimented the general on his deep
humility.
This notion confused him very much.
"But why did you want sculpture made of bronze?"
"Why? I'll tell you why," said the general.
"Because General Minh prefer bronze!"
Maggie and Tom were a couple with a passion for ice cream. They
stopped at the local ice creamery, then returned to their car with double
scoops of chocolate almond fudge.
No sooner had they settled back to enjoy their cones than two
birds landed on the car hood and began to chirp and flutter and peck at the
windshield. Finally Maggie rolled down her window and placed the rest of her
cone on the hood. The birds quieted down and began to eat the cone.
"Maggie, you're wonderful," said Tom. "How did
you think of doing that?"
"Oh, it wasn't hard to figure out," said Maggie. "It's
just another example of stilling two birds with one's cone."
Friar Laurence told Romeo that Juliet was getting very drunk
every night and suffering massive hangovers every morning. Romeo flew to his
beloved.
It was true: she was an odd shade of pale green and had
bloodshot eyes. At first she wouldn't admit why she drank, but at last she
confessed that though she loved him, she couldn't stand his flatulence. Romeo
explained that it was due to a distant relative, an Englishwoman who had earned
the gratitude of her King and been made Dame Commander of the British Empire
[anachronism here, but there's worse to come], but was now impoverished. Her
Italian relatives, out of sympathy, had made her their cook, and she was
feeding them hearty English fare which disagreed with Romeo's sensitive bowels.
Romeo kept eating her food because he hadn't the heart to tell her. But Friar
Laurence, said Romeo, had a solution: in the Veronese catacombs there was a
shrine with relics of an obscure saint. A night of praying there, followed by a
vow that he would control his sphincters, would cure him. Juliet was so
overjoyed that her next speech didn't quite scan properly:
JULIET: Romeo,
oh, Romeo, therefore fartest thou, Romeo!
Deny
thy fodder and refuse thy Dame.
Or
if thou wilt not, be butt-sworn, my love,
And
I'll no longer be so crapulous.
Of course they didn't live happily ever after...
I once had a friend named Joe Gordon. He was a miner who
worked down in southeast Ohio in the coal mines. One fine Monday morning in the
spring, Joe was shaving and listening to the radio when the disk jockey said,
"... and we hope you all remembered that Daylight Savings time started
over the weekend. Otherwise, you're an hour late!"
"Oh no!" Joe thought to himself. "I'm going to
be late for work!!" So Joe hopped in his car and drove off to work.
Now, it just so happens that in the area where Joe lived, the
roads were very narrow, and little more than ruts in the ground. It was
impossible to pass anyone on these roads. Therefore, you can understand how
upset Joe got when he rounded a hill and saw in front of him a little old lady
driving 3 miles per hour!!
After about five minutes of this, Joe got really ticked. He
was thinking of some way to get rid of this lady, when he saw an emergency
telephone off to the side of the road. So what does he do? He hops out of his
car, runs over to the phone booth, and calls the cops, who come and arrest the
little old lady!! Do you know what the charges were???
Simple: Contributing to the delinquency of a miner!!!
"So, how did the class reunion go?" I asked.
"Kinda fun. Some sad moments, though. Remember Lucy? I
found out she died," he answered.
"How awful! What happened?"
"She got a job at a chemical plant. Keith Simons was
working there.
“You know what those two were like. Couldn't think of
anything but sex."
I nodded. "Anyway, one lunch break they sneaked out to a
favorite spot right in the middle of the factory and started making love. They
rolled under a railing and fell right into a vat of Methyl Orange that some
idiot had left open. Tragicomic, y'know." He paused for effect. "It
reminds me of a Beatles song."
"Huh? Which one?"
"Lucy in the Dye with Simons."
A loyal Beatles fan, I hit him.
There were three Medieval kingdoms on the shores of a lake. There
was an island in the middle of the lake, which the kingdoms had been fighting
over for years. Finally, the three kings decided that they would send their
knights out to do battle, and the winner would take the island.
The night before the battle, the knights and their squires
pitched camp and readied themselves for the fight. The first kingdom had 12
knights, and each knight had 5 squires, all of whom were busily polishing
armor, brushing horses, and cooking food. The second kingdom had 20 knights,
and each knight had 10 squires. Everyone at that camp was also busy preparing
for battle. At the camp of the third kingdom, there was only one knight, with
his one squire. This squire took a large pot and hung it from a looped rope in
a tall tree. He busied himself preparing the meal, while the knight polished
his own armor. When the hour of battle came, the three kingdoms sent their
squires out to fight (this was too trivial a matter for the knights to join in
). The battle raged, and when the dust cleared, the only person left was the
lone squire from the third kingdom, having defeated the squires from the other
kingdoms.
I guess this just proves that the squire of the high pot and
noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.
Several years ago there was an Anglican minister from Korea
named Kim Rhee. He had a wonderful singing voice. His strong voice mesmerized
his parishioners, and the best part of his voice was that he could trill. His superiors
decided to send him to Africa to convert the heathen there. After his arrival,
Rhee asked the townspeople why they didn’t attend church. They said the local
shaman told them not to go or they would suffer in ways unknown to so-called
civilized people. The minister laughed and told them to come to church on
Sunday and he would sing for them.
That Sunday, while Rhee held the audience enthralled with his
wonderful voice and unusual trill, the shaman entered the church. Rhee told the
people to ignore the old man. The shaman produced a small doll that resembled
the minister, and he placed it, feet first, in a pot of evil-looking,
foul-smelling, boiling liquid.
Immediately, the minister fell to the ground and began to
howl. He tore off his shoes, and those in attendance witnessed eruptions of
small pustules and blemishes on the soles of the minister’s lower extremities. They
knew that the shaman’s power had won out over the minister’s.
And from that day forward, the townspeople committed to
village legend the trill of Vicar Rhee and the agony of the feet.
Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, is sitting on his throne one
day when he decides that he should go down to Earth and look for some
adventure. He does, finds a virgin maiden, and takes her to an empty cottage.
During the night, he has sex with her twenty-six times!
When he returns to his throne, he starts to feel guilty and thinks that he owes
the girl an explanation. After all, he can't let her go through life thinking
that all men have such sexual abilities. So he walks back into the cottage
where the girl still lies and shouts in a God-like voice, "I am
Thor." The unimpressed maiden answers, "You're Thor! I can't even
thit!"
The production and sale of special shoes for athletes has
become a multi-billion dollar industry with firms such as Nike and Rebock
continually coming out with new innovations to increase their shares of the
market. No longer is your choice limited to shoes for tennis, bowling or
football. Now there are special shoes for sports such as rugby and squash,
events such as pole vaulting and free exercise, and shoes for special
conditions such as mud or artificial turf. There are even shoes to give you a
special advantage, such as basketball shoes pumped up with air to allow
basketball players to jump higher.
In anticipation of the coming summer Olympics, Nike was the
first to announce its new line of shoes made especially for athletes planning
to compete in the track events. The shoes will not only be made of a new, very
light but durable synthetic material, but will have a tiny Intel Pentium chip
imbedded in the shoes to record every time and distance run. A major
advertising campaign will start later this month promoting the new racing
shoes. Every ad will feature Nike's new slogan ...
"These are the soles that time men's tries. "
Dr. Vincent Beraid, an expert in designer genes, specialized
in creating large animals for meat production.
Dr. Beraid’s death occurred during the development of a hog weighing
over two tons. Dr. Beraid used almost eighty gorilla clones trained to carry
out the mundane daily tasks of caring for this brute, who looked remarkably
like Jabba the Hut.
One of the complicating factors in caring for this beast was
his terrible bad breath. After feeding, It was necessary for several of the
apes to force over 100 Chlorets down his throat before anyone could go into the
lab.
On the day of the doctor’s death, one of the gorillas spilled
the breath freshener tablets onto the floor.
The doctor became enraged and began beating the poor ape. His
brothers rioted and pandemonium ensued.
It was four days before the police could enter the area with
hermetically sealed Caterpillar bulldozers. Portions of Dr. Beraid’s remains
were DNA fingerprinted from wall and ceiling residue.
The police report summarizing the event states, … “Seventy-six
strong clones fed the pig Beraid with a hundred and ten Chorets close at hand.”
Early in this century a Seminole reservation, an Indian chief
thought it was time that his son learned a trade, so he sent him away to a
vocational school to become an electrician. Months later, the son returned with
his diploma.
“Father, I am grateful for what you’ve done for me. Let me do
something to repay you.”
“Well, son,” the chief replied, “we have yet to put electric
lights in our latrine, and sometimes we stumble around in there in the dark.”
The son was happy to oblige his father, and within a day or
two he had installed lights in the latrine. Thus, he was the first to wire a
head for a reservation.
For many years a certain white whale and a tiny herring had
been inseparable friends. Wherever the white whale roamed in search of food,
the herring was sure to be swimming right along beside him. One fine spring day
the herring turned up off the coast of Norway without his companion. Naturally
all the other fish were curious, and an octopus finally asked the herring what
happened to his whale friend.
"How should I know?" the herring replied. "Am
I my blubber's kipper?"
By the 15th century, the Templar Knights had disappeared, but
deep in the bowels of the British Museum in a case well sealed and protected
lies a strange memorial to their impact on the city of London.
London of the early 12th century was on its way to becoming
an impressive city, but its life and its blood was the Thames River. Without
the river commerce would grind to a halt as the people of London discovered to
their horror in 1216……..
The first ships seemed simply to have disappeared, but the
monster wasted little time in this caution. Soon, many Londoners had seen the
gaping maw licked by flames dragging a hapless crew to its death. It was a fire
salamander, and in the Autumn of 1216 it was estimated to be 40 feet long with
jaws that gaped 10 feet wide.
By the spring of 1217, the monster was no longer a nuisance,
it was a deadly plague. No boat could navigate the Thames… no raft was small
enough, no ship was large enough to resist the demon of the Thames. Worse, the
beast was growing! The latest reports called it 70 feet long with jaws opening
15 feet. Our instinct is to discount this absurd growth, and yet few could
impeach its source.
He, our source, enters the story in August of 1217. London
had begged, prayed, blasphemed, and killed in desperate attempts to exorcise or
appease their curse; to no avail. On June 14, four men painted themselves with
the Devil’s Cross and proclaimed themselves the Dark Priests of the Beast. They
built a ship and doused it in oil; then, they sailed it down the river. Dark
Priests they may have been, but they died screaming like any man. On July 28,
London sent three virgins (the youngest not yet 13) down the Thames to the
monster. It was thought that this would appease the evil god: the monster’s
hunger exceeded even this atrocity.
On August 23, our source received his summons. His given name
is lost in his chosen name: Honorus. He was a Templar Knight and possibly a
saint. That morning, he was commanded to destroy the beast.
London in fear and desperation had turned to their most
jealous weapon, the Templars… warrior monks who fought with the fierce, perhaps
fanatic, frenzy of the devout. The city had exhausted all other options; the
monks were its last hope, and Honorus was the greatest of the Knights.
The battle was truly a footnote to his preparation… Honorus
ventured into the woods upstream from London. He forsook shelter, clothing,
food, and sleep for four days, meditating on the coming struggle. When the four
days ended, he stalked and killed a stag without weapon or aid. With the skin
of the stag he made clothing; from its flesh he regained his strength; and with
its guts, he lashed five logs into a raft fit for his purpose.
Honorus set the raft in motion. He had outfitted himself with
the only item he would use in this fight which had not come out of the forest
with him. A sword of Spanish steel, blue with the sky, lay in his lap. Soon, he
felt the swell of the water disturb his raft: the monster was coming, yet he
sat unmoving.
The beast broke the surface.
No human is perfect; a splinter of the collapsing raft
clipped Honorus’ left foot as he leapt into the water. He had timed his jump
slightly too late, but no matter, the injury will not be important until after
the battle.
The monster was above the water only momentarily; time enough
for Honorus to drive his sword between two of its scales. The monster thrashed
in pain, turning its exposed flesh from the steaming water. Honorus was lifted
from the water as the beast rolled. He gauged his stroke and leapt, striking
the monster’s eye.
Angered and half blinded, the beast threw Honorus into the
river and grasped him in its immense jaws. Honorus swam quickly past the teeth
into the monster’s mouth. Inside, the questing tongue scalded his feet as he
searched for purchase again, and we shall ignore this injury for now.
Once he had braced himself inside the beast’s mouth, pushing
with all his strength against the slowly rising tongue, he took aim. Honorus
had time to make only one thrust.
When his journal recalls these events, it attributes Honorus’
“luck” in this battle to aid from the Divine. We do not wish to detract from
the glory of God, but surely He will not envy His servant. Is it coincidence
that Honorus’ blade struck true to the brain? Honorus had already studied
carefully the anatomy of the salamander a week before he was summoned to fight
the beast. Did Honorus not know that the water’s rush against the beast’s
exposed flank would cause it such pain? In his journal, “August 24: And once I
am atop the beast and it has rolled from the water, where then to strike?”
Two weeks after Honorus was told to lift the curse of London,
the beast was dead. The next day London celebrated Honorus; the town would live
because of him. Three days later, gratitude had disappeared.
The body of the beast had lodged itself firmly in the mire
less than half a mile downstream of London. Although it was yet intact (perhaps
due to its incredible armor), it would surely soon rot. While not so great a
terror, the rotting beast would be almost as dangerous as the live beast,
attracting disease and scavengers. No ship could move the carcass. The people
of London called upon Honorus.
Honorus’ solution was difficult but practical, and he began
as soon as he had retrieved his sword. He fasted for two days; then, he ate the
cooked meat of the huge salamander and fasted for a third day. When he suffered
no ill effects, Honorus began dissecting the beast. With the help of London,
Honorus soon had all the usable meat and intestines of the dead beast
transformed into sausage.
A bizarre solution it was, but a good one. The sausage was
soon discovered to be excellent and to keep easily for very long periods of
time. Even more important, the sausage fast became incredibly popular
throughout England and much of Europe. It began to reestablish the fame of
London’s trade after the Hiatus of the Beast.
Still, Honorus has one final contribution to this history… It
became vital that everyone knew from whence the incredible sausage of London
came, and thus we return to Honorus’ injuries.
After the battle with the live beast and the crisis of the
dead beast, Honorus took time to recover. Six weeks after he was first
summoned, he was dressing the injuries on his feet. The problems of London were
known to him. As he dipped a strip of paper like gauze into a healing salve, he
had a thought.
One week later, each sausage shipped from London carried a
fascinating new development: a label. Just as the gauze dried and closed on
Honorus’ foot, the parchment around these sausages was attached; and all would
know the fame of London from each link she sold.
In the end, despite all his other feats, it was this idea,
the product label, that survived Honorus. In tribute to this advance, the
British Museum houses the only known surviving label from Honorus’ sausages.
And although even the tough gut of the Beast has long since faded to dust, the
label may still be read. If our reader could go to the Museum and enter the
Medieval wing’s most treasured collection, she could still read, in faint
letters, the Label of Honor:… It Was The Beast Of Thames, It Was The Wurst Of
Thames…
During the civil war there was a very accident prone sailor
by the name of Lou. Lou was cleaning the deck below when he happened to trip on
the wet floor and drop the lantern which caught fire. The crew tried for awhile
to put the fire out, but had to abandon the ship when the fire got close to the
gun powder. The headlines read the next day "Lou Slips, Sinks Ships".
During the Revolutionary War there was a single British
soldier who became isolated from his brigade. He took shelter in the chicken
house on a farm near Philadelphia. He hid out there for several days without being
apprehended.
While hiding there one night, he heard the thunder of hooves
approaching. He looked out and saw a man on horseback riding past. He
recognized the man as the intrepid Paul Revere riding through the night to warn
of the impending British attack.
The Tory soldier knew what he had to do. He took careful aim,
preparing to shoot Paul in the back, but a chicken attacked him just as he was
ready to fire. Because of the cackling and commotion, he was captured.
Since then a statue has been built on the spot to commemorate
the first chicken to catch a Tory.
Every day a peddler pulled his cart of wool
from his home to the village market. It was a long trip. He had to travel
around the perimeter of a large lake that was owned by the town tycoon, a
modern-day scrooge. One day during the winter the lake frozen over. The peddler
realized that he could cut off two miles from his trip if he crossed over the
lake. He was spotted halfway across the lake by the tycoon. Scrooge came racing
out of his mansion and screamed at the peddler, "I'll be darned if I let
anyone pull the wool over my ice!"
Snow White received a camera as a gift. She
happily took pictures of the Dwarfs and their surroundings. When she finished
her first batch she took the film to be developed. After a week or so she went
to get the finished photos. The clerk said the photos were not back from the
processor.
Needless to
say, she was disappointed and started to cry. The clerk, trying to console her,
said,
"Don't
worry. Someday your prints will come".
There was this nun named Sister Mary who,
though she tried and tried, could never please the Mother Superior. One day she
comes up with an idea: since the abbey was always cold, she decided to cut some
wood and build a fire in the fireplace to heat the place up. She spent all day
chopping, hauling and stacking wood. Subsequently, she wound up shredding the
sleeves of her habit.
Later that
night, as the other nuns came into the rectory, they were delighted to find the
place warm and cozy, with a big fire roaring in the fireplace. Then Mother
Superior comes in and yells, "Sister Mary! Go fix your torn habit this
instant!"
Sister Mary,
crying, asks, "But Mother Superior, aren't you happy that the abbey is
warm?" To which the Mother Superior replies, "Yes, but when you ax,
then ye shall re-sleeve."
Bob Hill and his new wife Betty were
vacationing in Europe, as it happens, near Transylvania. They were driving in a
rental car along a rather deserted highway. It was late, and raining very hard.
Bob could barely see 20 feet in front of the car.
Suddenly the
car skids out of control! Bob attempts to control the car, but to no avail! The
car swerves and smashes into a tree.
Moments
later, Bob shakes his head to clear the fog. Dazed, he looks over at the
passenger seat and sees his wife unconscious, with her head bleeding! Despite
the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knows he has to carry her to the
nearest phone.
Bob carefully
picks his wife up and begins trudging down the road. After a short while, he
sees a light. He heads towards the light, which is coming from an old, large
house. He approaches the door and knocks.
A minute
passes. A small, hunched man opens the door. Bob immediately blurts,
"Hello, my name is Bob Hill, and this is my wife Betty. We've been in a
terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I please use your
phone??"
"I'm
sorry," replied the hunchback, "but we don't have a phone. My master
is a Doctor; come in and I will get him!"
Bob brings
his wife in. An elegant man comes down the stairs. "I'm afraid my
assistant may have misled you. I am not a medical doctor; I am a scientist.
However, it is many miles to the nearest clinic, and I have had a basic medical
training. I will see what I can do. Igor, bring them down to the
laboratory."
With that,
Igor picks up Betty and carries her downstairs, with Bob following closely.
Igor places Betty on a table in the lab. Bob collapses from exhaustion and his
own injuries, so Igor places Bob on an adjoining table.
After a
brief examination, Igor's master looks worried. "Things are serious, Igor.
Prepare a transfusion." Igor and his master work feverishly, but to no
avail. Bob and Betty Hill are no more.
The Hills'
deaths upset Igor's master greatly. Wearily, he climbs the steps to his
conservatory, which houses his grand piano. For it is here that he has always
found solace. He begins to play, and a stirring, almost haunting, melody fills
the house.
Meanwhile,
Igor is still in the lab tidying up. His eyes catch movement, and he notices
the fingers on Betty's hand twitch. Stunned, he watches as Bob's arm begins to
rise! He is further amazed as Betty sits straight up!
Unable to
contain himself, he dashes up the stairs to the conservatory. He bursts in and
shouts to his master:
"Master,
Master! ... The Hills are alive with the sound of music!
Two young men were out in the woods on a
camping trip, when the came upon this great trout brook. They stayed there all
day, enjoying the fishing, which was super.
At the end
of the day, knowing that they would be graduating from college soon, they vowed
that they would meet, in twenty years, at the same place and renew the
experience.
Twenty years
later, they met and traveled to a spot near where they had been years before.
They walked into the woods and before long came upon a brook. One of the men
said to the other, "This is the place!".
The other
replied, "No, it's not!".
The first man
said, "Yes, I do recognize the clover growing on the bank on the other
side.
To which the
other man replied, "Silly, you can't tell a brook by it's clover."
A computer programmer, bored with his job,
decided to start his own business. Wanting to do something totally different
from his current occupation, he bought a mating pair of rheas and a large tract
of land.
His rhea
farm was soon doing a booming business as there appeared to be a great demand
for the birds. Not being satisfied with just selling the birds, the rhea farmer
started researching how the birds were being used. He found that all parts of
the birds were being utilized, except the feathers. Nobody wanted the plainly
colored rhea feathers.
The
ex-programmer, now rhea farmer, purchased some equipment, technical people, and
chemicals, and was soon selling fancy, colored rhea feathers. The resulting
sales were amazing and made the new feather merchant very happy. There was one
small problem. The workers making the colored feathers were becoming quite ill.
The concerned young man called in a number of doctors to determine the nature
of the illness.
It was
discovered that without exception, the workers had developed a severe case of
... "dye a rhea".
An Indian chief had three wives, each of whom
was pregnant. The first gave birth to a boy. The chief was so elated he built
her a teepee made of deer hide. A few days later, the second gave birth, also
to a boy. The chief was very happy. He built her a teepee made of antelope
hide. The third wife gave birth a few days later, but the chief kept the
details a secret. He built this one a two story teepee, made out of a
hippopotamus hide. The chief then challenged the tribe to guess what had
occurred. Many tried, unsuccessfully. Finally, one young brave declared that
the third wife had given birth to twin boys. "Correct," said the
chief. "How did you figure it out?" The warrior answered, "It's
elementary. The value of the squaw of the hippopotamus is equal to the sons of
the squaws of the other two hides."
As migration approached, two elderly vultures
doubted they could make the trip south, so they decided to go by airplane.
When they
checked their baggage, the attendant noticed that they were carrying two dead
raccoons. "Do you wish to check the raccoons through as luggage?" she
asked.
"No,
thanks," replied the vultures. "They're carrion."
Recently a
guy in Paris nearly got away with stealing several paintings from the Louvre.
However, after planning the crime, getting in and out past security, he was
captured only 2 blocks away when his Econoline ran out of gas. When asked how
he could mastermind such a crime and then make such an obvious error, he
replied: "I had no Monet to buy Degas to make the Van Gogh."
This Kentucky horse breeder had a filly that
won every race in which she was entered. But as she got older she became very
temperamental. He soon found that when he raced her in the evening, she would
win handily, but when she raced during the day she would come in dead last. He
consulted the top veterinarians and horse psychologists to no avail. He finally
had to give up because it had become a real night mare.
An elephant was drinking out of a river one
day, when he spotted a turtle asleep on a log. So, he ambled on over and kicked
it clear across the river.
"What
did you do that for?" Asked a passing giraffe.
"Because
I recognized it as the same turtle that took a nip out of my trunk 53 years
ago."
"Wow,
what a memory" commented the giraffe.
"Yes,"
said the elephant, "turtle recall".
The French will eat almost anything. A young
cook decided that the French would enjoy feasting on rabbits and decided to
raise rabbits in Paris and sell them to the finer restaurants in the city. He
searched all over Paris seeking a suitable place to raise his rabbits. None
could be found. Finally, an old priest at the cathedral said he could have a
small area behind the rectory for his rabbits.
He
successfully raised a number of them, and when he went about Paris selling
them, a restaurant owner asked him where he got such fresh rabbits. The young
man replied, "I raise them myself, near the cathedral. In fact, I have ...
a hutch back of Notre Dame.
Pat: Hey, Chris! How's your new pet fish
doing? You told me he was really something special.
Chris: To
tell you the truth, I'm really disappointed in him. The guy who sold him to me
said I could teach him to sing like a bird.
Pat: You
bought a fish because you thought you could teach him to sing like a bird? I
can't believe it!
Chris: Well,
yeah. After all, he's a parrot fish.
Pat: I hate
to tell you this, Chris, but while you might be able to teach a parrot bird to
sing, you're never going to get anywhere with a parrot fish.
Chris:
That's what you think! He can sing all right. The thing is, he keeps singing
off-key. It's driving me crazy. Do you know how hard it is to tuna fish?
Two men were in the process of inventing a new
brand of gum. They were arguing over the fact that their new gum was too hard
and brittle and didn't have the right consistency. One of the inventors kept
arguing that they simply had to add more liquid to their primary secret
ingredient, code named "Yewin".
The other
man argued adamantly. "No, No, No! It's not wetter Yewin that counts...
it's how you ply the gum!"
A Grandmother was surprised by her 7 year old
grandson one morning when he had made her coffee.
She drank
what was the worst cup of coffee in her life. When she got to the bottom there
were three of those little green army men in the cup. She said, "Honey,
what are the army men doing in my coffee?"
Her grandson
said, "Grandma, it says on TV-'The best part of waking up is soldiers in
your cup!'"
Mahatma
Ghandi walked barefoot everywhere, to the point that his feet became quite
thick and hard.
He also was
quite a spiritual person. Even when he was not on a hunger strike, he did not
eat much and became quite thin and frail.
Furthermore,
due to his diet, he wound up with very bad breath.
Therefore,
he came to be known as a super calloused fragile mystic plagued with halitosis.
There where
once two brothers called William and Wayne. Will was 12 years old and his
little brother was 3.
The
neighbors noticed they always went around together, if William went down to the
ballpark, his little brother would toddle along behind him, even if the game
was a bit rough, and when Wayne went to playgroup, his elder brother would come
too, and sit there with all the toddlers.
One neighbor
thought this was really strange, so one day he leaned over the fence and asked
the boys' mother why they were so inseparable even though they had nothing in
common.
"Well,"
the mother replied, "didn't you know? 'Where there's a Will there's a
Wayne.'"
A young man
had been working as a bag boy in a supermarket for several years.
One day the
supermarket got new orange juice machines.
The bag boy
was excited and asked the manager if he could work the juice machines.
The manager
turned him down.
The bag boy
said, "But I've been working here for five years. Why can't I run the
juice machines?"
The manager
said, "I'm sorry, but baggers can't be juicers."
A sailor was
caught AWOL as he tried to sneak on board his ship at about 3 am. The chief
petty officer spied him and ordered the sailor to stop. The officer ordered the
sailor, "Take this broom and sweep every link on this anchor chain by
morning or it's the brig for you!"
The sailor
picked up the broom and started to sweep the chain.
Just then, a
tern landed on the broom handle. The sailor yelled at the bird to leave, but it
didn't. The lad picked the tern off the broom handle, giving the bird a toss.
The bird
left, only to return and light once again on the broom handle. The sailor went
through the same routine all over again, with the same result.
He couldn't
get any cleaning done because he could only sweep at the chain once or twice
before the silly bird came back.
When morning
came, so did the chief petty officer, to check up on his wayward sailor.
"What
on earth have you been doing all night? This chain is no cleaner than when you
started! What have you to say for yourself, sailor?" barked the chief.
"Honest,
chief," came the reply, "I tossed a tern all night and couldn't sweep
a link!"
In the 1900s
an English town had fallen on really hard times. For decades its primary
industry had been its textile mills, but now the mills were all closed and
unemployment was at an all-time high.
Desperate,
the town's mayor looked frantically around for other industries to bring to his
town. He found that there was a man in Germany who waslooking for someone to
take over his thriving hunting dog breeding business. The man had made a
fortune raising the animals and was not willing to unload it for a fraction of
its value, so that he could retire.
The mayor
used his influence to have the mills converted to kennels and all of the dogs
transported to his town. Employment skyrocketed and the town prospered.
Everyone was happy, even though, sometimes--especially on the nights with a
full moon--the animals got a little noisy, keeping some residents awake.
But, even
these unfortunate few learned to sigh and say, "The mills are alive with
the hounds of Munich".
These three
guys are out fishing, and when they get back to their truck they see it's
surrounded by three bears.
"OK
guys, I figure the only way to get to the truck is to really get them mad. Then
they'll leave and we can go home. So, Ed, you take the one on the left, the
little cub with the broken leg, and I'll take the one in the middle, the little
cub with one eye and a hurt paw, and Joe, you take the one on the right, the
huge silvertip mama grizzly bear with blood-encrusted claws, the big teeth, and
froth around the mouth".
"Hey,
man wait a sec, I'm supposed to get this monster mad, and you guys get the cubs
? That's not fair!"
"Now,
now, Joe. We all have our bears to cross."
A husband
stood in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully flossing his teeth.
"Ooh!" he would sigh every once in a while, or "Aaah!" as
the little thread did its work.
Suddenly and
seemingly without provocation, his wife stomped into the bathroom and gave him
a swift kick.
Bewildered,
the husband demanded, "What was that for ?"
I'm sorry,
"his wife replied stiffly, ... "but I just don't believe in sighing
flossers."
A mother pig
was walking through the barnyard one day with one of her piglets. Suddenly, a
raccoon raced out from behind the barn and scared the living daylights out of
the mother pig.
The little
hog laughed to see such sport and the sow jumped over the coon.
Sherlock
Holmes turned to Dr Watson and announced: "The murderer lives in the house
with the yellow door."
"Good
grief, Holmes," said Watson. "How on earth did you deduce that?"
"It's a
lemon entry, my dear Watson."
Gene Autry
and Frankie Laine were hosting a Christmas party. As the guests arrived,
Frankie would record their names in the register.
The guest of
honor, Sammy Cloze, was late, and Gene was very worried. At last, Sammy's taxi
drove up and as he stepped out, Gene was so relieved he shouted:
"Here
comes Sammy Cloze! Here comes Sammy Cloze! Write down Sammy Cloze, Laine!"
A man walked
into a haunted house wanting to get a picture of a ghost with his instamatic
camera. After a couple hours, he finally saw one. It was a friendly ghost who
actually posed for the picture.
The man took
the first picture, but it turned out too dark. So the ghost posed for another
one, and the picture again turned out dark.
The ghost
had to go so the man did not get a picture.
Goes to show
that the spirit was willing but the flash was weak.
Lady Guinevere
and Sir Lancelot have a big argument and Guinevere tells Lancelot she never
wants to seen him again.
Lancelot is
so depressed he goes down to the local tavern to drown his misery by drinking
some ale.
Guinevere
realizes the argument was silly and decides to find Lancelot and apologize. She
sees his horse outside the tavern and goes in.
A local man
who is just leaving, recognizes Guinevere, and says to her: "What's a
knight's girl like you doing in a place like this?"
In ancient
Palestine, there was a group of traveling actors who went from village to
village entertaining the people.
In one small
village, the only son of one of the village elders was attracted to this life,
and ran away with the actors when they moved on.
When the
boy's absence was noticed, the people pursued the actors, and cornered them
among the rocks. The villagers picked up rocks and were preparing to throw them
at the actors, but were unable to generate the nerve to start until the village
chief pushed the boy's father forward, saying...
"Let he
who is without son stone the cast first!"
The jockey
saw the horse groom sprinkling something behind his horse's neck.
"What's
that?" asked the jockey.
"It's
yeast", answered the groom. "This will discourage birds from
mistakenly building nests in your horse's beautiful mane."
"Will
that really work?" asked the jockey.
"Of
course!" replied the groom, "for yeast is yeast and nest is nest, and
never the mane shall tweet."
This English
landlady had a couple of struggling poets for tenants.
When the
poor fellows got behind in their rent, and the landlady was unable to have them
evicted. Instead, she decided to murder them.
She baked a
large scone and put some poison in it, then invited the poets down for tea. She
served each of the chaps a cup of tea and half the scone. The poison worked as
advertised, but of course crime does not pay, and the awful woman was soon
arrested.
Feigning
innocence, she demanded to know with what she was being charged.
The police
inspector replied: "Well, it seems, madam, that you have killed two bards
with one scone!"
The Soviets
got sick of buying wheat from the Americans and began to spend millions on
research into grains. Finally U.S. intelligence found out that the Soviet
scientists had developed a new grain that yielded twice the harvest of
conventional wheat and grew in half the time. Several agents died before it was
discovered that the new grain was called "Krilk". The CIA was
panicked! Without the Soviet dependency on American grains the security of the
West could be forever compromised.
Congress
quickly convened and appropriated several hundred million dollars for the CIA
to send up spy satellites over Russia to learn the secrets of Krilk. Finally,
after several years, the satellites began to send back images of the factory
deep in the Soviet Union that was processing the Krilk. The CIA sent in over a
hundred agents. None returned. The process remained a secret. The satellites
were next to useless because they could only see the outside of the building,
not the actual milling of the harvests. Finally the Soviet Ambassador in
Washington sent a message to the President of the U.S. to let him know that all
further attempts to learn the secrets would be futile.
The message
read, "You are wasting your money. Everyone knows that it's no use spying
over milled Krilk!"
A mechanic
who worked out of his home had a dog named Mace. Mace had a bad habit of eating
all the grass on the mechanic's lawn, so the mechanic had to keep Mace inside.
The grass
eventually became overgrown. One day the mechanic was working on a car in the
backyard and dropped his wrench, losing it in the tall grass. He couldn't find
it for the life of him, so he decided to call it a day.
That night,
Mace escaped from the house and ate all the grass in the backyard. The next
morning the mechanic went outside and saw his wrench glinting in the sunlight.
Realizing
what had happened he looked toward the heavens and proclaimed, "A grazing
Mace, how sweet the hound, that saved a wrench for me!"
Prince Stone
had this enormous moth collection. He had large moths, small moths-moths of all
kinds.
When King
Stone decided to retire and pass his crown to the prince, he told the boy he
must first dispose of the moth collection and find another hobby.
"Why is
that, father?", inquired the prince.
"Because",
replied the old man, "A ruling Stone gathers no moths!"
Two hunters
were sitting in a tavern, arguing about who was the better hunter. They decided
to bet a tall glass of beer each that they could kill and return with a killing
first.
One took up
his hunting rifle and went out, and the other got into a fighter plane, found a
lion, and killed it no problem.
Forty-five
minutes after the first hunter returned, the second returned. In disbelief, he
asked how he did it so fast. The first hunter replied "Everyone knows that
a strafed lion is the shortest distance between two pints."
A mother
bought her daughter a Ken doll that had real hair. One day the mother noticed
that the hair had lice in it. She was disguted and decided to boil the doll in
a pan. As the lice died she carefully skimmed them out of the water with a
ladel.
Unfortunately,
the stench of the dead lice caused her to sneeze and she blew the dead lice all
over the stove.
Moral:
"The best ladeled pans of lice and Ken oft turn to spray."
When Kit
Carson wasn't out exploring, he lived on a small farm. One day, the famous
frontiersman decided to surprise his wife with eggs and fish for breakfast.
Arising
early, he went down to the henhouse and collected some fresh eggs. There were
only six.
On the way
back, he stopped at the pond and landed a magnificient large-mouth bass. He
wasn't sure how to carry everything---then he had an idea. He carefully dropped
the eggs inside the fish and started for home. Suddenly, the Western hero found
himself confronted by a mean, hungry looking wolf. Fearing that he might become
a meal for the canine, he threw the bass aside and hurried up a nearby tree.
From there, he watched as the wolf grabbed his fish, eggs and all, and ran off.
When Carson
got back home empty handed, he related the adventure to Mrs. Carson, who
responded, saying, "You shouldn't have put all your eggs in one bass,
Kit."
An abbey was
in financial difficulties, and to increase its income the brothers decide to
open a fish and chips business.
One day the
abbey doorbell rang and one of the brothers went to welcome a customer.
When he
opened the door the customer said, "Are you the fish fryer?"
The brother
said, "No, I'm the chip monk."
As Reynoldo
lit the votive candle at the grotto for San Jose de los Platanos and prayed for
the healthy delivery of his first child, he heard a disembodied voice say,
"Your daughter will be 17 inches long," to which Reynoldo
replied,
"Do you
know the weight too, San Jose?"
Noren Eron,
the great Norse comic decided to bring his act to America. He booked several
shows in the northern states and did well. He then took his act down south, but
he realized that the farther south he went, the less the crowd appreciated his
act which had the poor guy miffed. When he got to the Deep South, no one got
his act at all. After many disappointing sets, he just quit one night and
returned to Norway. This goes to show you...
You should
never book a miffed Norse in the south.
It was very
windy, and this particular little girl was only six years old and small for her
age. When her mother asked her to clean off the front sidewalk, the wind nearly
blew her away. She picked up the broom countless times, but each time, the wind
got the best of her and knocked her over.
Her mother
came out a few minutes later to see how she was doing and found her stuffing
rocks in her pocket. "I thought you were cleaning off the sidewalk,"
her mother said. "What in the world are you doing?"
The little
girl replied: "Now? I weigh me down to sweep."
www.fun-with-words.com/spoon_books.html
members.tripod.com/~Buster_Fitz/AnguishLanguish/spoonerisms.html
www.matthewgoldman.com/spoon/stories.html
www.englishbaby.com/forum/LifeTalk/thread/216867
www.billietaylor.com/feghootian/index.html
www.kith.org/logos/words/lower2/sspooner.html
www.amazon.com/Stoopnagles-Tale-Twisted-Spoonerisms-Amok/dp/
1891135031
www.squidoo.com/spoonerisms
en.allexperts.com/q/Jokes-Comedians-1535/Capitol-Steps-Spoonerism-based.
htm
hubpages.com/hub/Spoonerism-tales
able2know.org/topic/24158-1
www.fall08.graphicinterfacedesign.com/students/lpilcher/html/stories.html
The
Three Best Shaggy Dog Stories Ever
Shaggy
Dog Stories: For the groaners. • r/ShaggyDogStories
https://golfgearforseniors.com/best-shaggy-dog-stories
MacScouter
-- Stories for Scouts & Scouters
The
best shaggy dog story ever as neglected Cavalier King Charles saved from the
streets
What
is your favorite shaggy dog story (longform joke)? - Quora
Funny Shaggy Dog Stories
Jokes
/ Shaggy Dog Story - TV Tropes
What
is a shaggy dog story? What is the funniest example of one? - Quora
Post
Your Best Shaggy Dog Jokes - Straight Dope Message Board
Best
Shaggy Dog Story: 'The Great Grisby' by Mikita Brottman
Bad
Puns - Get your muds wordled!
The
three rabbits • r/ShaggyDogStories
Shaggy-Dog
Story
|