Okay, here’s a couple of my favourites – (Although they don’t translate into this medium at all, you can take them and torture whoever you like with 'em in meatspace.)
The pastor of a church in Nebraska went to open it for services one Sunday and horrified to find that it had burned down in the night. After his initial shock, he consoled himself with the knowledge that providence could be relied upon. Looking around the ruins, he noticed that the Bingo cage survived relatively intact, and felt his confidence returning. When his flock turned up in their finery, he met them with a brave face and told them of his plan to raise money for a new building materials by organizing a bingo night in the town hall, with donated prizes. Everyone agreed that this was a fine idea and and the plan was carried out. It was quite a success, and after only a single night, they had enough for a truckload of bricks and mortar. [NB - ideally, the story is drawn out to include several devastating misfortunes/rebuildings, with a three-little-pigs-like progression of building material, but I’m being lazy/merciful here) Plans were carefully drawn up, and so economically that each brick was accounted for. All the men donated their labour and in no time at all a beautiful new church was erected. As the pastor walked around the building, inspecting it with approval and pious gratitude, he noticed that one brick was left over. This surprised him, because he was sure that the plans had called for the exact number of bricks that they had at their disposal. He walked around the building again, looking for an empty space, but found none. At last, he shrugged, looked up, and threw the brick straight up.
Ha ha ha. Oh, you don’t get it? Never mind. Here’s another:
A man is flying from New York to California, after a long a tiring business trip. As he approaches his seat he is chagrined to find that the window seat is occupied by a pinched-looking woman holding a swaddled baby. He has a sinking feeling as he settles into his seat. As the plane takes off, the baby starts to cry. And cry. They reach their cruising altitude, and still the baby shows no sign of being consoled. Exasperated, the man resolves to put the baby out his mind altogether, and endeavours to relax. In aid of this aim, he produces a cigar from a box which one of his business associates had given him as a gift and begins to smoke. Immediately, the woman begins to make small sounds of disapproval, of which the man takes no heed. The baby, of course, continues to cry. As the blue, calming smoke encircles the man’s head, the woman slowly becomes more pop-eyed, and her mouth becomes a thin, twisted line. The man continues to enjoy his cigar, at last finding some peace. The woman begins clearing her throat ostentatiously. The man gently knocks his ash into the tray on the armrest between them and sighs contentedly. At last the woman can contain herself no longer and says, “Excuse me, but your cigar is irritating my baby.” The man looks at her sideways and asks, “What do you mean? Clearly the child was irritated from the start of the flight – it has nothing to do with me if he’s ill-tempered. At any rate, it’s almost finished.” Furious, the woman fumes while he finishes his cigar – and still the child cries, yet slightly harder as he senses his mother’s anger. Feeling satisfied and somewhat sedate after his smoke, the man sleeps for a while. He’s woken up some time later as the baby resumes its crying. Feeling foul temper creeping up on him, he tries to head it off with another cigar. Soon the soothing aroma of combusting nicotiana tabac is rising like incense. “Really,” exclaims the woman, “I don’t know how you can be so rude. You know that you’re irritating my baby. Listen to him crying!” “Lady,” replies the man, “you’ve got it backwards. You’re baby’s crying is irritating me. That’s why I’m smoking.” “Really! I’ve half a mind to throw that smelly thing out the window.” Now the man is beginning to get angry: “You try a thing like that,” he rumbles, “and I promise you I’ll throw that brat out after it.” Shocked, the woman grits her teeth and remains silent as the man continues to smoke, occasionally exhaling in her direction with a derisive fricative sound. Soon the cigar is finished, and miraculously the baby settles down. Again, the man begins to drowse, and finally to sleep the sleep of the just. Naturally, he is rudely awakened some time later by the infant’s renewed cries. He rubs his eyes, stretches, and reaches into the box for another cigar. No sooner does he have it lit, however, than the woman snaps completely. Shrilly, she says, “How can you possibly? The flight is only half-over, and you’re on your third fat cigar? My baby’s blanket positively reeks of it. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” With that, she snatches the cigar from the man’s mouth, snaps the window open, and throws the cigar out. Not missing a beat, the man says, “Lady- when I make a promise, I keep it, and if you can’t put up with my cigar, I don’t see any reason I should tolerate your squalling kid.” He grabs the baby out of her lap, blanket and all, and heaves it out the window. But the amazing thing is this: When the plane lands at LAX, and the technicians went to de-ice the wings, what do you think they should find on the wing but the baby, right as rain? And the kicker… the kicker is… pardon me… (heh) what do you think the baby had in its mouth?
[narrator waits for sufferer to suggest “Uh… a cigar?”]
No! A brick.
previews
Curse you, TellMeI’mNotCrazy! 
