Chapter 155

MooseBreath

How is a pitch that has been batted into the bleachers behind the dugout like a group of pigeons wearing tuxedos and evening gowns dancing waltzes?

They are both fowl balls.

Trump was touring the countryside in his chauffeur-driven limo. Suddenly, a donkey jumps out onto the road, and they hit it full on and the car comes to a stop.

Trump says to the chauffeur: “You get out and check, you were driving.”

The chauffeur gets out, checks, and then reports that the animal is dead.

“You were driving; go and tell the farmer,” said Trump.

Hours later, the chauffeur returns totally plastered, hair ruffled and with a big grin on his face.

“My god, what happened to you?” asks Trump.

The chauffeur replies: “When I got there, the farmer opened his best bottle of whiskey, the wife gave me a fantastic meal, and the daughter took me upstairs and made love to me.”

“What on earth did you say to them?” asks Trump.

“I knocked on the door, and when it was answered, I said to them, ‘I’m Trump’s chauffeur and I’ve just killed the jackass.’”