Post Your Best Shaggy Dog Jokes

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

So this moth goes into a podiatrist’s office. The doctor asks the moth, “What seems to be the problem?”

The moth says, “Doc, I don’t know where to start. I feel like my whole life has been a waste of time. I’ve been at the same job for twenty years and I don’t just hate it, I’m revolted by it. I can barely summon the strength to drag myself in every day but I have no choice because I’m in debt up to my compound eyes. The idea of doing this job for years more just makes me sick. I’ve grown apart from my wife. She’s no longer the woman I loved, and I can barely stand to be around her but I feel guilty for feeling that way about her. Doc, it just eats me up inside. My daughter’s shacked up at eighteen with a guy I can’t stand who’s terrible for her and she dropped out of school, but she won’t listen to reason and it breaks my heart. And my son… Doc, I just don’t know if I love my own son, because he reminds me of everything I hate about myself. I look into his eyes and see the same digusting, snivelling cowardice I know everyone sees in mine. I can’t even work up the courage to pull out my gun and blow my own goddamned brains out. I feel like my entire life is nothing more than a fragile web of lies just barely holding me back from the screaming abyss.”

The podiatrist says to the moth, “You do seem to have a lot of problems, but I’m just a podiatrist. You need to see a therapist, a psychiatrist even. Why did you come to me?”

And the moth says, “The light was on.”

2

A cowboy rides home to the ranch and finds that his house is burned to the ground, his horses have all been stolen, his livestock slaughtered, his dogs shot down, his wife raped and murdered and his ranch hands tortured and hanged. One man, barely alive, manages to gasp out before dying: “It. . .it. . .was Shanghai Pete.” Grief-stricken, the cowboy buries his wife, his ranch hands and his dogs. He then drags all of the livestock to a pit and pushes them in, covering their corpses with lime. Rage begins to set in and the desire for revenge overwhelms him. He mounts his faithful horse and rides for town at a full gallop. Pulling up at the saloon in a cloud of dust, he jumps off his horse and collars the first person he sees. Grabbing him and shaking him, he screams in the man’s face: “Do you know where Shanghai Pete can be found?!” “In. . .in. . .the s-s-saloon!” Stammers the man. The cowboy storms through the swinging doors and the saloon falls deathly silent. The cowboy scans the room from under the brim of his hat and says: “Which one of you low-life, motherfucking sonsabitches is Shanghai Pete, who burned down my house, stole my horses, killed all my livestock, shot down my dogs, raped and murdered my wife, and tortured and hanged all my ranch hands?” A man dressed in black, easily 6’8" tall and nearly as wide, turns from the bar with a shotgun in his hand and cocks both barrels. “I’m Shanghai Pete and I did all those things! So what!!?” he thundered.

“Well knock that shit off, okay?”

3

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”

4

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.”

5

There’s a man crawling through the desert…

6

Wow. Just… wow. :slight_smile:

7

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.”

8

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.

9

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 favour 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 embarassed, to boot. The puzzled doctor took X-Rays. After examining them he said to Gérard, “You have the strangest tumour I’ve ever seen. But don’t worry. It’s benign.”

Originally posted here

10

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?’”

11

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.”

12

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 dogshit? Eat some of it.”

Ira has no choice so he starts to eat some of the dogshit. 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 dogshit? Eat some of it.”

Hitler has no choice so he starts to eat some of the dogshit. 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!”

13

When I was stationed in Sicily in the 80s, there was a dependent wife who went to the doctor for continous 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.

14

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!”

15

T

Took me a second, until I realised the punchline has to be said in an American accent to work! :smiley:

16

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 mans 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.”
(My friend and I speculated that maybe it was a rebbetzen).
Another friend likes shaggy tales where the guy dies right before he was going to find out something. Her favorite is a version of tnd’s “strawberry icecream” story, but in hers a cruel second-grader gets his classmate to whisper “green tangerine” to their teacher. At the end, after he’s grown up and just after he’s released from prison, the old bully calls him and tells him that if he comes over, he (bully) will tell him (victim) what “green tangerine” means. He gets hit by a car one block from the bully’s house.
Yet another one- a Bluebeard-type man tells his wives never to ask him why his pool is L-shaped. When they do ask, he kills them. When the police catch him, of course, they themselves want to know why the pool is L-shaped and what the signifcance is. The murderer drops dead of a heart attack before he can answer.
And a non-death one: I don’t remember the details, but there’s a note that the guy is not supposed to open until ___(?). After many, many years, the conditions come to pass, and he is given the instruction to cloimb up a mountain and read it there. He climbs up, gets out the note, and a sudden wind blows it away.

17

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,

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“Well, I don’t know his name, but his face rings a bell.”

18

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,

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“He never told me his name, but he’s a dead ringer for his brother.”

19

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

20

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.”