Maisie was given a lottery ticket inside her birthday card. It won! Forty-five million!
Maisie took the lottery ticket and threw it in the fire. She wasn’t going to let all that money rip her family apart.
Stella had the most beautiful hair. Her hair was the envy of everyone. All who saw it couldn’t help but gush with wonder and admiration. It was almost as if Stella was a mutation. Her hair was probably why the artist had asked Stella if she would mind posing for a painting.
“Just look up to the ceiling for a minute if you would,” asked the painter.
“Turn your head slightly to the right,” asked the painter.
“Gently frisk your hair to the left. Just a little! Perfect!” said the artist.
“All done,” said the artist. Pablo Picasso put down his brushes.
Stella had the most beautiful hair. It was just a shame she had only one eye and in the middle of her forehead, three ears, and a nose that pointed in two directions at once.
The time had come! The males of the human species were tired of paying large sums of money to every female on the planet. A male had only to smile at a female and it was taken to be offensive. Obviously a smile meant the male wanted sex. Clearly there was only one thing on every male’s mind, and that was rape. But now, the time had come!
Cloning. Females were no longer needed for reproduction. Thus they were obliterated from the face of the planet. Only baby boys were hatched. How much happier the planet had become. Planet Earth changed its name to Planet Unisex.
…it was the other way around.
Roberto was so fat when he died that a special coffin had to be made.
“We don’t stock gigantic coffins for grossly fat people,” said the undertaker to the grieving widow. “You’ll have to get one specially made.”
The poor grieving widow had nowhere to turn. She said she couldn’t afford to have a coffin specially made, let alone a very large one. She went to see if she could get some government benefit to help out.
“We don’t pay for gigantic coffins for grossly fat dead people,” said the Government agency. “If he’d gone on a diet and exercised a bit of self-control before he kicked the bucket we might have looked at it with a bit of sympathy.”
The grieving widow went to see the pastor of the local church.
“Why would we want to help out?” asked the pastor. “Your late husband was a grossly overweight, fat pig. You can’t have your cake and eat it, although looking at the size of your dead husband I’d say he’d eaten as much cake as he could stuff in his mouth. Haw! Haw! Haw!”
By now the grieving widow was desperate and the body (still sprawled on the sofa in her sitting room) was starting to disintegrate.
“Why haven’t you got rid of the body of that disintegrating, grossly overweight, slobby fat pig?” asked the children of the dead husband’s first marriage.
“I can’t fit his corpse through the door and the undertaker won’t help out until the money for the coffin is paid up first,” said the grieving widow.
People heard of the grieving widow’s plight. Thousands of dollars were donated. The grieving widow used the donated money to go on a world cruise in an ocean liner. You can imagine the stink that caused.
Yeah. Well. I was sitting unobtrusively in the corner of this pub having a think and having a quiet drink and smoking a cigarette which I had just taken up again after eleven years off them. And this guy comes up to me and says, hey, have you ever thought of doing something useful with your life?
And I say, yeah, like what?
And he says, I dunno. Get married and have kids and do something useful, instead of smoking and drinking on your own in a corner.
And I say I’ve got a wife and kids already.
And he says, well how come they’re not here or at least your wife? She might enjoy a night out.
So I stood up and socked him the biggest punch on his jaw I could muster. He fell down and I kicked him in the crotch and left.
Some people don’t know how to mind their fucking business.
At last! Helen Brown was getting a divorce. It had been a tumultuous marriage and now it was over. She was rid of her abusive, domineering, vindictive, jealous husband.
“I have been to hell and back,” announced Helen.
To celebrate, she reverted to her maiden name: Helen Back.
(Footnote: Dear Discerning Reader, Since moving house I no longer have unlimited broadband. A certain amount is paid for and allotted each month – which is needed primarily for work from home. Earlier this week, from 9 to 10.30 am on two consecutive days, when my computer wasn’t even turned on, nine GB were used up. Until this mystery of squander is solved my participation, other than daily posts, will be limited – so comments, likes, etc. from me will be minimal. Thanks. Have a nice day! Bruce)
Would you believe! Scientists believed the Bubal Hartebeest to be extinct. Yet I saw one! It was possibly the last! It was thought that the Bubal Hartebeest went extinct in 1923 until they were found in the wild. Then in 1950 they were hunted to extinction. Except – I saw one the other day! I saw one in the wild!
I can see why they were hunted to extinction. It was delicious.