Chapter 453

From Uther Pendragon
2 Real old ones:😂

“A B C D Goldfish?”

“L M N O Goldfish.”

“O S A R.”

A jolly old fellow from Lyme
Married three wives at a time.
When asked, “Why the third?”
He said, “One is absurd,
And bigamy, sir, is a crime.”🤣

Growing old is obligatory. Growing up is optional.

“Mommy, why can we land a helicopter on Mars, and we can’t turn on a light in Texas?”
“Because Mars is run by scientists, and Texas is run by Republicans.”

Her first-year teaching, Miss Smith is sent to a tiny backwoods school and told that she would be expected to visit her students homes sometime during the year.
She started the first day of class asking the students’ names.
“I’m Gooey,” said the fifth boy.
“That’s a nickname. What is your real name?”
“It’s Gooey.”
Naturally, the first family she went to visit was Gooey’s. She knew enough to make some social conversation first, but soon enough got to the question which had brought her there,
“Mrs., Jones, what is Gooey’s real name?”
“Why that’s his real name.”
Miss Smith waited for a while, but she didn’t give up.
“Mrs. Jones, how do you spell ‘Gooey’?”
“You’re a teacher and you can’t spell! Why G U Y, of course.”

“You can get drunk on water, you know.”
“How does that work?”
“About the same way that getting drunk on land does.”
😁

Centuries ago, The Poet went to the seashore to be alone with his muse. He got sick, and he could barely get to the door when The Fisherman knocked. They talked for a bit, and The Fisherman asked what a Poet was. The poet recited some of his verses praise of various lady loves. “My Anna would really like that. I wish you could write one for her. I can only pay in fish, though.” “Fish don’t appeal. My mother used to give me chicken soup when I was sick. Could you get me a chicken?” “We don’t have many chickens, hereabouts. Would a shorebird do?” They agreed to try the bird, The Fisherman described his lady love, and they agreed to meet in two days’ time. “Did you get the poem written?” the fisherman asked when he’d knocked on the door again. ‘Indeed, I did. Did you bring the chicken?” “We don’t have many chickens. This is a tern.” They traded, and The Fisherman was very happy, as his Anna was very impressed. The exchange, though, was less beneficial to The Poet. Having taken a tern for the verse, he died. 😍

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