Time to laugh

[Redbear]

A young man runs afoul of the law, and is sentenced to a long term in the state prison. He is uneasy about the strange sights, sounds, and smells of prison life. Fortunately, he is assigned to a cell with a kindly old lifer who takes him under his wing to show him the ropes.

The first night, the lights go out with a bang as the sound of all the cell doors locking echoes down the block. As the kid lies there in the dark, someone in another cell yells "one-forty-two." The kid is confused, but the old man chuckles as laughter is heard from various parts of the cell block. Someone else further away yells "two-eighty-seven" and the laughter resumes.

The kid asked the old timer what was going on. The old man explained "We have all been in here so long cut off from the outside world, that nobody has any new jokes, and we have heard all the old ones multiple times. So we decided to number all the jokes, and instead of wasting time telling them, if someone thinks of one, they just call out the number. We remember the joke, and laugh if it was funny to us."

The kid thinks this was an OK idea, but since he was new, he did not know any of the jokes, and was not in on the humor. The old man agreed to tell the jokes to the kid. Over the next few months, the old man would tell the kid some of the jokes before lights out, and the kid thought some of them were very funny.

One night after lights out, the kid remembered an especially funny joke. He called out "three-forty-nine."

There was dead silence in the cell block.

The kid panicked, not knowing why everyone was silent. Was he in danger, because the other inmates had something against him? He asked the old man what was going on. The lifer replied:

"Sorry, kid. Some people just can't tell a joke."

[bansil]

[Accordion]

There was a summer when I was living in the Dodge class C motorhome pictured on my "Best Home Yet" thread. It seems that the mice that were getting inside the motorhome had found a way to the bag of dog food that I kept in the bathroom. I found evidence of their little turds in the bag.

This was happening on a regular basis, and ended up costing me a lot to replace the tainted bags. I learned to always have a spare bag of dog food.

One day, I actually heard a mouse INSIDE the bag crunching away. Closing the bathroom door quietly, as to not alert the mouse, I went outside and sharpened a foot long stick to a point.

I re-entered the bathroom, and noticed that the mouse was still in the bag of dog food.

There was only one way out for that mouse, and that was through the top of the bag.

I quickly rolled the top of the bag over so that the little critter could not escape. I then took the bag (mouse included) outside.

There in the sunlight, I held my "spear" in one hand, and opened the bag with the other.

Surprise, surprise!!! There you are!

I speared that mouse with one thrust of my stick, right through the mouse.

It died instantly.

Now, here is the interesting part of this story.

I took the impaled "mouse on a stick" to the yard behind the motorhome and stuck the stick in the ground for all his mouse buddies to see.

Then I spoke out to all the Mousies that might have any ideas about raiding my dog food again.

I said, "Look here, and see what happens when you trespass"!

It may be hard to believe, but from that point on, I never had another mouse in my motorhome.

[Accordion]

One day I was having a yard sale. I was selling a lot of stuff. Tools, ladders, Electronic stuff.

One item I had was a jacking column for temporary joist support. It was an 8 foot metal pole with metal pads on each end. It was adjustable with screw ends on each end. It was heavy.

A woman came by and was interested in a clock radio that I was selling.

She asked me, "does it work"? I said sure it does.

I hooked it up to an electric cord, and much to my dismay, it did NOT work.

I told her, "no problem, I'll fix it"

Then I put the clock radio on the sidewalk, and grabbed the house jack, and lifted it up and came crashing down on the clock radio, smashing it to pieces.

I looked up at her and said "there you go, all fixed!!"

She looked at me with a quizzical stare, and left immediately.

[bansil]

you dirty old man
.
.
I gotta remember that one

[Accordion]

I always grab a good hold of the loop at the end of the 15 foot rope leash I use for walking the doggies.

It has been raining here all last night and is still raining.

This morning, I have Buddy on the leash. He is a very strong dog. We are walking down a slope in the field.

He spots a deer. I don't see it. I am just looking at the sky.

I hear a grunt from him, and the next thing I know, I am sliding down the hill, holding the rope while Buddy drags me at least 50 feet through the wet grass.

It was like the wild west when people would get dragged through the dirt while roped to a horse.

Fortunately, it was wet out there, so I slid easily.

It took ten minutes to find my glasses.

I did yell at Buddy, but he is just a dumb animal.

Now, my pants will never be rid of the grass stains.

A whole new meaning to "Slip And Slide".

[Diesel Dan]

Originally Posted by Accordion

...It was like the wild west when people would get dragged through the dirt while roped to a horse.

Oh man, Rudy, that was a great story. I'm dyin' here... ... (wiping my eyes)...

But seriously, it sounds like you are lucky to not have a dislocated shoulder or elbow or something like that! Dang!

[Accordion]

It's time for another story.

So, it is a Halloween night. A bunch of friends and I go out to find what mischief we can get in to.

One of my friends had borrowed his dad's brand new Chevy pickup. This was in 1970. So, we all pile into the pickup truck.

This friend had also brought along a bunch of firecrackers and cherry bombs, but those were NOTHING compared to the military smoke bomb he managed to get a hold of. This thing was 1 1/2 inches thick and 8 inches long. You lit it by striking the cap on the top.

We get this idea to go to the square in the center of town and light this thing off and drive around the square with the smoke bomb in the back of the pickup.

It was fantastic. This stick made SO MUCH smoke, you could not see ten feet behind us. It poured out smoke for at least five minutes.

Finally, it died down, so we high tailed it out of there.

When we were driving away, those of us in the back of the truck noticed that the smoke bomb stick was glowing WHITE HOT. We all commented that it must be really hot.

After a few minutes, it became just red hot. We still weren't going to touch it.

Now the strangest thing happens. All of a sudden, the smoke bomb disappears. Dumbfounded, we approach the area where it was laying and notice that the reason it was gone was because it had burned a hole in the pickup truck bed and had fallen through.

It was at the next stop light that all of us jumped out of the truck and walked (ran) home.

Now, try explaining to your dad why there is a hole in the bed of his brand new pickup truck!!!!!

[Accordion]

The nurse for the proctologist walks into the examination room carrying a tray with a bottle of beer on it. The doctor gives her a quizzical look and says " I wanted a butt light".

[bansil]

Originally Posted by Accordion

The nurse for the proctologist walks into the examination room carrying a tray with a bottle of beer on it. The doctor gives her a quizzical look and says " I wanted a butt light".

[Accordion]

A friend of mine does air conditioning work. One morning, he was at Reba's house. Yes, the famous country singer.
He was in her kitchen, which had a side door. He was doing some ductwork when a woman in curlers knocks on that door.
He looks at the woman through the glass in the locked door for 30 seconds and does nothing to open the door.
Finally, he opens the door and asks, may I help you? The woman says, don't you know who I am?
He says, Well, you're a pretty lady, but you're sure no Reba McEntire!
It was, indeed, Reba though. Being a kind person with a sense of humor, she laughed about the whole thing.

[wmkbailey]

When I was in the NAVY, I was told a #itching sailor is a happy sailor. If you told him all he had to do was come in and collect his paycheck every two weeks. He would ask "Why can't it be direct deposited?"

[Accordion]

Yesterday I noticed that there was a rabbit sitting next to one of the peach trees.

I had seen some rabbits here before. I thought it was very unusual that this rabbit was just sitting still there by the tree.

I went out to get some breakfast at McDonald's. I came back to see that this rabbit was still sitting by the tree.

I thought that it was very strange.

I felt compelled to go to see the rabbit. It was strange that the rabbit did not move as I approached it.

I know that my eyes are not working very well.

So, I got next to the rabbit, and I nudged it with my foot.

I laughed very much when I realized how life-like the plastic fake rabbit looked .

I have told you about the big Blue Heron bird and the donkey and the chickens that are here. They are real.

The rabbit is not.

I still laugh at that.

[bansil]

Are you sure?

[Accordion]

Bansil, you make me laugh.

I have actually seen the Blue Heron, the chickens, and the donkey move.

The donkey is very friendly. One day, he was rubbing against me. That was sweet. Then he accidentally stepped on my foot. That hurt.

[bansil]

[Accordion]

Rat Hunt.

I am not sure if this story is funny. I do know that it was fun and quite daring.

When I was 10 and 11 years old, my family lived in an apartment. The apartment buildings were usually three stories tall, and they all had basements (cellars), where each apartment had a storage section.

We lived near the Park river. We called it the Hog river.

Often times, we kids (lots of kids to play with), would explore the basements of these old apartment buildings.

What we noticed was that there were always giant rats hanging around down there. Some of them were a foot long.

I got this idea to start a game called Rat Hunt.

So, I got together a bunch of kids to go to battle.

The older kids, of which I was one, were the warriors. The second in command were the flashlight holders. The third rank were the ones who held the bricks and rocks.

Here is the arrangement of the war on rats: The older guys would get trash can lids. Back then, all of the trash cans were made of metal.

We used these trash can lids as shields.

The second rank would hold the flashlights while the front row would corner the giant rats into a corner. At that point, the first rank would put out their hand, and the third rank would hand us a brick or a rock.

Then, we would proceed to stone the rat.

I knew that when you corner a giant rat and start stoning it, the rat will jump at you. That is why we had the metal trash can lids to knock it back into the corner.

I have to to tell you that it was scary and exciting at the same time. It was so awesome to smash that rat back into the corner with our trash can lids. I still remember the sound.

I imagine that you may wonder how many strikes that it took to bring those giant rats to their demise.

I will tell you that after about 7 direct hits, the vermin animal would be convulsing and not jumping at us anymore. Usually, ten strikes were enough to put it out of it's misery.

I know that this is not a very funny story, however, we were performing a service for the people in those apartment buildings.

And yes, we did dispose of the giant rats by throwing them back into the Hog river from which they came.

[Diesel Dan]

Rudy, that was an interesting slice of life, albeit gruesome. You could probably write a book with the wealth of stories you have to offer.

Regarding rabbits, beware of white rabbits with pocket watches. You follow those at your own peril.

[Jarlaxle]

Originally Posted by Diesel Dan

Okay, I just remembered a prankster story. Again, many years ago, I was working at an institution for severely and profoundly retarded people. Basically, they had the minds of two or three year olds, but the bodies of adults. They also had a whole range of other psychiatric and physical disabilities and often bizarre behaviors they had picked up from being retarded and growing up living in such a bizarre place as an institution for retarded people. I was sort of a combination of security guard and babysitter and nurse. I would often come home to my girlfriend (now my wife) with crazy stories of crazy people doing crazy things. So anyways, one of the shift supervisors was a really fun and kinda crazy guy named Earl. One day my girlfriend came to visit me for whatever reason, at work. This was the first time she had ever been there, and she had never met any of my coworkers. The buildings were all locked down, since some of the residents would be at increased risk for hurting themselves or others if they got outside unsupervised. One of the aides (or accomplice, in this case) opened the door and let my girlfriend in, and on cue, Earl came running down the hall screaming like a lunatic, waving his arms around in air, and generally acting like he was one of the residents rather than staff. He was very convincing in his performance. My wife did not know what to do. The accomplice was pretending to contain Earl, holding him back as he was trying to get at my girlfriend to do whatever crazy thing her imagination might have conjured up. So he breaks free and runs up to her, and as she is recoiling in horror, he stops in his tracks and greets her in a most gentlemanly and sane manner, much to her confused amazement. We all got a good laugh out of that one!

I just had a vision of him trying that on my wife. I see two possible outcomes: one, Earl gets a steel-toe boot in the crotch and/or a left hook in the jaw. Two, Earl finds himself looking down the barrel of a loaded, pistol, safety off, hammer cocked.

[Jarlaxle]

Originally Posted by Diesel Dan

Jerry Garcia lost the middle finger of his right hand in a wood chopping accident as a child. I guess that's why he was a flat-picker.

Oh wait... this is the humor thread, not the music thread... I got confused!

Ozzy Osborne's guitarist lost three fingers in the metal shop where he worked. He de-tuned his guitar, made "fingertips" out of plastic...and that detuned guitar gave Black Sabbath their distinctive sound.