“John?” Daphne shook him. He didn’t stir.
“John! Oh god, what have I done? John? Please wake up.”
She shook him again, panic rising in her voice.
“I need you to wake up. John! Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I… John, oh John! Please, please!” Tears flowed down her cheeks and she swallowed hard.
John stirred and opened his eyes. “For heaven’s sakes, woman. Why this bloody theatre every single morning? Can’t you just wait for the frigging alarm to go off?”
More humor? Find it all blogposts tagged with HUMOR:
Several years ago a young man (for the sake of making him more distinguishable from the other personae in this story we will presume that he was red haired. And his name is John) went out for a night with his friends. After many rounds of beer he decided that he had to use the bar’s bathroom, in order to relieve himself.
As he stood at the urinal, a sturdy man with a crew cut entered and started using the pissoir next to him. The ginger boy couldn’t help noticing that the man didn’t just relieve himself with one stream of urine, but in fact three separate streams hit the porcelain. Due to the combination of alcohol and curiosity, he decided to overcome his usual shyness. “Tell me sir, I noticed that you do not pee with a single stream but in multiple streams. I wonder, is this an acquired phenomenon or a hereditary defect?”
The sturdy man turned to him, smiled and answered politely. ”Actually, ginger boy, I’m somewhat flattered that you ask me this. It is in fact an intriguing story. I am a veteran from the second golf war. One day we were hunting down the enemy and we formed a foot patrol to do so. Alas, next to our footpath the enemy had hidden a IED *), which went off just as I passed by. I was lucky: a piece of shrapnel damaged Mr. Willy, but through diligent surgery, the doctors managed to rescue my manhood. However, ginger boy, I have not been able to pee in a single stream since.”
In awe, the boy left the facilities, and couldn’t wait to tell his chums.
Many months later, the boy visited the same bar, and again after a long evening of drinking he needed to go to the bathroom to relieve himself. As he stood at the urinal, a powerful yet obviously drunk marine, also with a crew cut entered, and took position at the pissoir next to him. Ginger boy stole sideward glances at the man. Finally he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “I’m sorry sir! I couldn’t help noticing that you are not peeing in a single stream but in fact you produce at least a dozen streamlets! Are you perhaps a veteran of the second golf war!?”
The other man looked down and cursed. “Damn. I’ve… I’ve forgotten to open the bloody zipper.”
*) in case you do not know what an IED entails, make sure to read pages 130- 150 of my novel Fields of Fire
Donald Trump, Erdogan, the Dalai Lama and a backpacking student are the four sole passengers on a plane crossing the ocean. Suddenly the pilot appears and says: “Sorry guys, both our wings fell off, engines gone, tail on fire: the plane is going to crash. Only four parachutes on board, I’m taking one, so goodbye and good luck.”
And he pulls open the door and jumps out.
The four passengers are stunned. Erdogan is the first to move, grabs one of the three remaining parachutes, straps it on and says: “Guys, as the leader of the great Osman empire I have a responsibility for all Turks, and you will understand that it would be a terrible loss if I would die.” And out he jumps.
Donald Trump quickly grabs one of the two remaining parachutes, and shouts: “I am one of the greatest presidents and businessmen of the world, so true, I had the largest audience ever at my inauguration, I have big hands, the Democrats are to blame and I leave you with one parachute. So SAD !” And out he jumps.
Says the student: “Well, it seems only one of us can survive. Why don’t you take the last parachute?”
Says the Dalai Lama, with a twinkle in his eyes: “Don’t worry, son. Mr. Trump took your backpack.”
As my cousin John used to say: It is not that aunt Denise is mad. It’s just that her tongue is connected differently to her brain than with ordinary people. Alas, cousin John is no longer with us – whereas aunt Denise continues to thrive.
Here some of her gems.
My aunt Denise: “Listen. Listen! Something absolutely weird happened to me!
… Oh wait. That wasn’t me… it happened to somebody else.”
How much did you pay for that mixer?
About a hundred bucks.
A hundred bucks?! You can buy a vacuum cleaner for a hundred bucks!
Yeah, but we didn’t need a vacuum cleaner. Besides the mixer came with a lot of extra stuff, funnels and beakers and so on.
What do you need those for if you vacuum the house?
The dog kept on having sex with my knee.
My husband, your uncle, was so mad at me, he locked himself in the upstairs bathroom for an entire week.
Really? How did he survive?
He ate the toothpaste.
At least he had enough to drink.
I turned off the mains, and that forced him come out.
Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Sing praise in the name of the Lord ! Truly Oi! The face of Maria Magdalene in my eggs, sunny side up. An experience of biblical dimensions !
And ain’t Mary an eggstraordinary cutie?
I love eggs in all shapes and sizes – but I am biased towards the ovums from chicks that have at least some moving space and that are, for eggsample, not pumped full with antibiotics (Interested in my diet? Read more here).