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The Supreme Canuck
2007-Jul-30, 06:07 PM
The rules are simple:

Write a short story. The more ridiculous, the better.
End with the most horrible pun you can manage.

Basically, the point is to put the pun into context, thus magnifying its horror.

Get to it!

The Supreme Canuck
2007-Jul-30, 06:13 PM
Here's my offering, as an example:

A former friend of my sister's - Faye Upton - was one of those rich, useless people we all like to deride. You know the sort. Can't accept no as an answer. Always needs attention. Always making an undignified scene at clubs.

Faye was so bad, she's been unfavourably compared to Paris Hilton on several occasions. I suppose you could say she was as rude as Paris, but didn't have the charm of the cafés. In fact, the similarities between the two women are stunning: Faye even had the obligatory little dog.

Now, the dog was hardly unique. It was a little, vicious chihuahua that would only listen to Faye. Everyone else it treated like raw steak. Faye absolutely adored that dog - took it everywhere, dressed it up in little frilly dresses, fed it fillet mignon. None of this changed the fact that it was evil incarnate, biting, growling, and urinating as it pleased. She loved this horrible thing so much, in fact, that she entered the dog into a show.

Naturally, she fully expected it to win in every category. It never occurred to her that she could lose. She was special, and so was Fluffy. They were entitled! They couldn't lose! She even planned a congratulations party for the dog for immediately after the show, complete with kibble-cake, doggie-cabaret, and champagne fountain.

Of course, it didn't win. It placed last in every category.

Faye was not amused. She, as is her wont, created a scene. Shouting at the judges, accusing show officials of corruption, insulting other competitors. She went on like this for hours, until she was hauled out of the arena, threatening everyone from the show's sponsors to the janitors with legal action. In the fuss, Faye forgot her dog, and it was left in the kennel area.

One of the other competitors, a furniture-maker by trade, seized upon this unique opportunity for revenge against the revolting beast - and against the dog, too. He grabbed Fluffy, carefully avoiding being bitten, and got to work.

The next day, Faye returned to the arena to retrieve the dog (she had remembered about it earlier in the morning only when she began to wonder why she hadn't received any complaints from the neighbours overnight about barking). What she saw in the kennel stopped her in her tracks. There was Fluffy, growling loudly, sitting in the middle of the floor, sewn into a dog-shaped velvet bag! The furniture-maker had upholstered Fluffy! Faye fainted straight away, and the dog was never the same.

And the moral of the story? An ounce of pretension is worth a hound of velour.

toejam
2007-Jul-30, 09:55 PM
TSC

That was so horrible that it was excellent & a hard act to follow.

In the meantime I'm trying to decipher your Latin sig, but as I only have a smattering of dog-Latin, perhaps even Shaggy dog- Latin, I could only come up with the following, which may be wrong (I have been known to be wrong once or twice in my life before).


__________________
Quaeso quousque humi defixa tua mens erit? Nonne aspicis, quae in templa veneris?

Cheese rather than humus unfixes your soul you write? No aspic, when in the temple of love.

It could be wrong.
So should be grateful for a real translation as Alta Vista Babel Fish has as much Latin as I have.

Are we supposed to compose our own story or can we repeat stories we have heard, hackneyed old ones?

The Supreme Canuck
2007-Jul-30, 10:03 PM
By all means, repeat stories you've heard, so long as you give credit (I think that meets board rules requirements - as always, post nothing copyrighted). The point is to have a laugh, so it really doesn't matter where the story comes from.

And the Latin?

"How long, pray, will your mind remain earthbound? Can you not see that you have entered the temple of the sky?"

Seems to fit the board. Though I like your translation as well. ;)

Anyway, that's OT. Let the puns flow!

tdvance
2007-Aug-06, 05:40 PM
If this sounds so, "Junior High", it is because I wrote it while in Junior High (i.e. don't expect much):

Amy was a comely but poor farmer's daughter. She earned extra money on the weekends by being the headliner for a somewhat upscale "gentleman's" club in the city. Not just your local dive, they hired only the best of strippers and jazz band accompaniments.

The "Oh Naturale" was playing one Saturday night while Amy performed. When she stripped to nearly nothing and faced away from the audience, the very particular band members stopped playing and started booing, throwing their chairs, and walking out. Amy was embarrassed and hurt by the reception, and vowed revenge.

A later Saturday evening, the Oh Naturale was performing on stage to a packed auditorium. Amy backed the truck, loaded with several of her father's cows, to the loading dock at the rear stage entrance. She opened the doors and threw firecrackers into the truck to start a mini-stampede. The cows trampled most everything on the stage, including instruments, and the musicians barely escaped with minor injuries.

Amy was satisfied, as a herd in the band is worth a boo of the tush.

The Supreme Canuck
2007-Aug-06, 08:29 PM
Ha! Well done! Good set-up, perfect dismount.

I do like puns.

ABR.
2007-Aug-07, 02:16 AM
My sincerest apologies if this posts twice (or at all?)
****
The Unhappy Princess

Once, long ago, in a land now pretty much forgotten there lived a King and his lovely daughter, the Princess. The Princess was an unhappy little girl for she had lost her mother, the Queen, to a terrible wasting disease. Nothing the King could do would bring a smile to the face of the inconsolable princess and he had tried nearly everything he could think of; neither horseback riding, walks along the beach, rooms full of toys, puppies, nor even the Court Jester could bring a smile to the poor girl’s face. The King feared for his daughter’s very life.

Then, one rainy day, a carnival came to town. The King and the Princess were made guests of honor for the day and were escorted personally by the Carnival Master. But none of the ferocious beasts nor painted clowns nor even the sideshow freaks were able to cheer up the Princess until at last only one small tent remained unexamined. The Carnival Master pleaded with the King not to enter as the person within had just been sacked but the King insisted. So it was, when the King and Princess met Bjorn, a strikingly beautiful woman whose face was streaked with tears. As she looked to the opening tent flap, she turned slightly and the King was astounded to find that Bjorn had the face of a woman on only one side – the other was that of a man. The King turned to go but was halted as he saw the pout of pity replacing his daughter’s sad visage.

Thus Bjorn came to reside in the castle with the King and the Princess. Bjorn and the Princess spent every waking moment together while the King was able to return to the mundane tasks that befall kings, much to his relief. Still, nothing could bring the Princess out of her sadness, although she played dolls and walked about the castle and did many things that a Princess should do. In the meantime, the King became increasingly vexed and perplexed by a rash of petty thievery now plaguing the castle. First to disappear were small trinkets then silverware and crystal. Finally, when a spectacular pendant – a precious gift from his dearly departed wife – turned up missing, the King had to grudgingly admit that the crimes had begun the day that Bjorn had entered the castle, so he called for his/her arrest knowing full well how badly his daughter would react to this news.

Scarcely an hour later, Bjorn was being escorted to the dungeon when he/she slipped her captors and raced to the moat. The King and the Princess, now more aggrieved than ever, watched the scene out of the throne room window. To their amazement, Bjorn had leaped into the moat and was doing a sidestroke, carefully keeping her feminine side out of the water, as a rain of crossbow bolts sliced the water to either side of her. The King was astounded and angered for his guards were among the best marksmen in all the land, but his anger washed away as he heard a sound that brought joy to his heart.

“Oh, Daddy,” the Princess giggled hysterically, “Surely you know that your marksmen couldn’t hit the broad side of Bjorn?”

jja
2007-Aug-08, 04:58 AM
I did not originate this, and I can't find out who did, but I have recast it a bit, so feel free to blame me.

Madame Sofaki, the mystic seer, is about to take her afternoon tea break, when the tent flaps burst open and a frantic woman rushes in.

"Madame," she says, "My name's Patricia Praegerz, and I'm in a... jam, and I want to use the morning-after pill, RU-486. But I've heard that some women experience bad side effects, including uterine scarring. Can you tell me if the pill will work for me?"

Madame draws a breath, but before she can answer, in comes a frantic man.

"Madame," he says, "I'm Guy Normasigo, and I have a very important business meeting tomorrow morning and I want to make sure that the fung shy or whatever you call it is in perfect order. I can take the downtown subway to get there, or catch a cab at the borough station. What do you suggest?"

Madame inhales a bit more, but in comes another man.

"Madame, I am Nguyen Nguyen Gon, personal assistant to the prominent art collector Sin Syur Lee, who wishes to show his appreciation to his spiritual adviser, Master Sum Dum Gai, by the gift of a priceless antique ear wax scoop of jade and silver. Is it safe to entrust this irreplaceable artifact to a delivery service, or should I carry it personally via an overseas flight?"

Madame is starting to turn blue and red in the face, combining into a dangerous shade of purple. And in comes another woman.

"Madame, my name's Rosie DiSposishan, and I got a guy who's kinda sweet on me, but he's not everything I want, but then again my mom keeps saying I'm not getting any younger, but..."

Madame has had enough. With a great evil glare, she stares them all into silence. Then she points at them one by one and reels off her answers:

"RU going to scar. Borough fare. Parcel Lee's Sage. Rose, marry in time!"

tdvance
2007-Aug-08, 05:51 PM
From my 9th-grade biology teacher years ago:

Once upon a time lived a king in his castle in the great forest. Surrounding the castle was a moat and a security system known as the Yellow Fingers. If an intruder attempted to cross the drawbridge, the Yellow Fingers would reach up out of the moat and pull him in.

However, the evil warlock decided to do something about the Yellow Fingers. Not having magic powerful enough to eliminate them, he did the next best thing and impaired their ability to judge the character of someone walking across the drawbridge. Thinking this would let enemies in, unfortunately it did the opposite, and kept everyone from crossing the drawbridge.

So, after several weeks, the supplies in the castle were running low and the king was getting desperate. He had already sent many knights out on errands to bring back groceries, but lost them all to the Yellow Fingers.

"Maybe", said the king, "Maybe the Yellow Fingers have a small amount of judgment left and will allow the absolutely most honorable people through." So, he called for his most decorated and revered knight. "Lancelittle, I regret we are desperate and I must order you to venture through the Yellow Fingers to bring back provisions." Lancelittle, the bravest knight ever based on the stories he told of his quests, just barely successfully suppressed a revealing shiver and bowed, replying, "Yes, Sire."

Sir Lancelittle mounted the fastest horse, grabbed a lance, and made a run across the drawbridge. However, the Yellow Fingers were faster and Lancelittle was lost.

Having reached his wit's end, the king called his only son, the heir to the throne, before him. "Prince Tonne, my beloved son, we are on the verge of starvation. I know you are honorable. Please go through the Yellow Fingers and bring back provisions."

Prince Tonne was not very happy to do this, but knew from experience that when his father asked nicely, he had better obey. So, Prince Tonne tried to put out of his mind all the deceit, all the times he blamed some knight when he did something stupid, all the times he took credit for what another knight did, all the times he did his best to prove his "honor" to his father, and he tried to make himself believe he was truly of great honor, hoping that would fool the Yellow Fingers.

Prince Tonne mounted a horse and rode with sword in hand onto the drawbridge. No sooner did he mount the bridge when the Yellow Fingers rose from the moat. Prince Tonne tried to turn the horse around and reenter the castle, but he was not fast enough, so Prince Tonne was lost, along with his horse.

Finally, the king said, "There is nothing left. We are all dead unless I go myself. I only hope the Yellow Fingers forgive me of past indiscretions."

A page boy stood and said, "No, your highness, I will go."

Laughter arose from the court.

The king waved the court into silence and said, "That's brave of you, but no, the Yellow Fingers require the absolute highest of honor, and I must go myself."

"But, your highness," replied the page, "please, send me first. If I fail, all you have lost is a page and then you can go, but if I succeed, it will be better that we do not sacrifice the king."

The king took a moment to think, and said, "This goes against all my sense of morality, but I cannot argue with your logic. You may go. Set him up with the best remaining horse and the armor and weaponry of his choice."

"But no, my lord! I must walk through in humility! Please, no horse, no weapons, no armor."

"I don't like it, but as you wish," replied the king.

So the page walked past rows of spectators and those placing bets (odds being very much against the page) and those there to snicker, and onto the drawbridge.

To the amazement of the onlookers, there were no Yellow Fingers to be seen. The page continued to walk, not with haste and not sluggishly, but in a casual amble, across the bridge and into the woods.

At the end of the day, the page returned pulling a wagon loaded with provisions. He cross the drawbridge, and still there were no Yellow Fingers to be seen. Finally, he made it into the castle with the supplies and to be knighted by the king.

After the knighting ceremony, one who lost a lot on betting against the page came up to him privately and asked, "How did you know you could get out of the castle safely?"

He replied, "It's easy. You should always let your pages do the walking through the Yellow Fingers."

ABR.
2007-Aug-13, 05:05 PM
Edward Zloty owned a chewing gum company. It wasn't a big company, certainly not as big as "The Big W", that certain other -- and slightly more famous -- maker of chewing gum. Not that Edward's company was even in the top ten along with The Big W, it's just that they had vexed him from the day his factory started rolling out his own chewing gum. They had more products, better advertising and, he had to admit, were actually much more famous than he. Today, all that would change.

In an amazing breakthrough using ordinary chewing gum ingredients and recombinant RNA technology, Edward had perfected a formula in which chewers of his gum would temporarily gain the ability to perform art at the level of a master. During trials, he himself had completed such paintings that would have been at home in any of the major art galleries. Indeed, the art critics he had hired to appraise his collection had instantly offered him money beyond his wildest dreams for the right to show his work. He'd turned them down, of course, because he was, after all, in the chewing gum industry and not an artist. Plus, he was mostly interested in showing up The Big W. If he earned a fortune along the way, well, that would be a nice perk.

Edward sat in a TV studio where he would make the announcement that would allow him at long last to look down on The Big W. Why, maybe he'd have a baseball stadium named after him! The On Air sign was still dark so Edward rehearsed his announcement, including his opening statement, which he thought was very clever.

"Okay, Edward, it's time," the anchor said, turning to the camera above which the On Air sign had just lit up. "The founder and CEO of Edward Zloty Chewing Gum Company is in the studio with me today."

"Wrigley's, chew your…" Edward began.

The anchor interrupted, "But first, we have a breaking news story from Wrigley's. Wow, now that's a coincidence! Here's our reporter on the spot with the story."

Edward could only watch the studio monitor in horror as the reporter stuck a microphone in front of a Wrigley's executive who proceeded to announce a breakthrough in the chewing gum industry: chewing gum that would actually lend its chewer the ability to perform great art...each new flavor was that of a different master or school of art. The executive began listing the new flavors.

"One for Monet. Two: Picasso. Three: Contemporary. Four: Art Deco…"

Edward slumped into his chair. He'd lost everything. The news anchor, still listening to the ever-growing list of Wrigley's artistic gum flavors, didn't even hear him as Edward muttered in resignation, "E.Z. Gum, easy Gogh."

Roy Batty
2007-Aug-13, 06:41 PM
They've all been truly dreadful so far but you get the special 'Roy Batty replicant' prize for the use of 'recombinant RNA' in your last one ABR. :clap:

ABR.
2007-Aug-24, 04:45 AM
Perhaps this is poor form, but since no one else has taken a turn, I'll go again.

By the way, thanks Roy Batty for my prize -- finally I see the fruits from all my advanced tRNAng.

********************
Happily Ever After?

In a land now pretty much forgotten, there was a small, but beautiful kingdom ruled by a kind and wise king. The King had a very pretty daughter who was going to be queen some day, but for now was content with being the Princess. There was also a very old and evil Wizard. He had always wanted the kingdom for himself. Although he had great powers, he knew that he would need help for the people greatly loved their king but the Wizard -- not so much. To make matters worse, he was dying. The Princess visited the Wizard constantly during the last few days of his life as he spent hours and hours looking through dusty, old books for a spell to help him achieve his dream of usurpation. She pitied him and having recently dealt with the death of her mother, she wasn’t too keen on losing someone else, not even the evil Wizard. Just before he died, he cast his greatest spell, which he told the Princess would enable him to take over the kingdom. When he finished, he lay back on his bed, sighed contentedly and passed away. Neither she, nor the King, paid much attention to the Wizard’s claim and when the Wizard died, the Princess was sad. Of course, the King was greatly relieved.

However, the Wizard didn’t truly die. Oh, he breathed a last breath and was pronounced completely dead by the Royal Coroner, but the Wizard’s mind remained alive and in control of his body. This frightened the people in the castle when they saw him rising and walking about, through obviously dead. The King was very worried so he had the Wizard’s animated body locked in a prison cell. The Wizard, needing no sustenance, was hardly seen or even thought of after that...except by the Princess.

She visited the Wizard daily, but no matter what she did, she was unable to bring even the slightest of smiles to his decaying face – aside from the one brought on by rigor mortis. One spring day, as she watched couples strolling about the castle lawn, holding hands and doing the things people in love are wont to do, she had the answer to her dilemma. The Wizard became excited, pulled a piece of moldy parchment from his robes and told her what she needed to do. A week later, after collecting many obscure and mostly disgusting items about the castle and surrounding forest, she was ready. In the Wizard’s chambers, the Princess spent several days chanting and gesturing over a wrapped bundle that two of the castle guards had grudgingly brought for her. What transpired next, no one witnessed except the Princess.

Afterwards, she enlisted the aid of the guards once more to take the bundle down to the Wizard’s prison cell. He eagerly unwrapped his present and lo and behold, there was an undead woman – and nearly in the same state of decay as he. The Princess soon left, for she was too polite to hamper the Wizard and his guest. Also, she was still too young to watch or even understand what transpired next.

Soon afterward, the Wizard and his companion made an announcement. Then another and another and another and so on until the cell nearly overflowed with little decaying babies. These babies, through some strange magical process, soon grew to adulthood and another cell was soon needed to accommodate them all. And another and another...

When the King heard what was going on he immediately rushed to the scene of the action. They would soon overrun his entire kingdom, he realized. The Wizard smiled a crooked smile, for this was his intent all along. This was why he had tricked the Princess to carry out the spell for him. And the Princess was most distraught when she realized how he had manipulated her.

In a lisping voice, the Wizard told the King to leave at once – the kingdom was now his. The King and his daughter, and all the living people in the kingdom packed their belongings and left to find a place in which to build a new kingdom, leaving the Wizard and his Queen sitting on mighty thrones, marveling at their beautiful kingdom of the undead.

The Princess was forlorn; for she knew that her actions had caused her father much sadness and cost him his kingdom. She worried, as little girls who have been naughty often do, that her father might be sorely vexed. But the King loved his daughter, for she was the best memory he had of his lovely, but departed Queen and she was much more important to him than even the kingdom itself. And so it was, he merely smiled a weary smile and reminded the Princess of the old adage, “Thou shalt not suffer a lich to wive.”

bluebanana
2007-Sep-18, 04:09 AM
ok its not a story, but um you can make some stories with them if you like:

1. Two vultures board an airplane, each carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at them and says, "I'm sorry, gentlemen, only only one carrion allowed per passenger."
2. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says, "Dam! ... "
3. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.
4. Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says, "I've lost my electron." The other says, "Are you sure?" The first replies "Yes, I'm positive."
5. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocain during a root canal? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
6. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. 'But why?" they asked, as they moved off. "Because", he said, "I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."
7. A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain; they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."
8. These friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good fathers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop. Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.
9. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him ...(Oh, man, this is so bad, it's good)... A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
10. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to his friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.


They're horribly painful, I know.

pzkpfw
2007-Sep-18, 05:11 AM
You must have heard of this one: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shah_Guido_G.

Not my favourite Asimov.

The main character is Philo Plat.

(No relation to "Phil Plait" :-) )

toejam
2007-Sep-18, 04:15 PM
bluebanana

:) :) :)

FOCLMAO

toejam
2007-Sep-24, 09:10 PM
--

Not mine, I plagiarised it. And it (like the ORIGINAL S_D story) has no pun:)

One day, man walked up to his son and said, "son, i am a very wealthy and powerful man. I can buy you anything you want. Now being your highschool graduation day, i am giving you this offer of anything you want. Money is no thing to me. Tell me anything you want and I will get it for you." The son replied without hesitation and said, "I want 1, 000 green golf balls." The father, obviously bewildered asked the son why, and his son did not answer him. The father however, gave him the 1, 000 green golf balls he had asked for. 4 years later, The son had graduated from college and the father once again made him an offer. "Son, i am very wealthy, and i am very powerful. Money doesnt mean a thing to me. Once again, tell me anything in the world that you want and ill get it for you. The son once again asked for 1, 000 green golf balls. The man had grown very angry by this time, but loved his son so much that he gave him the 1, 000 green golf balls. The two men separated and after 5 years, the son had a computer software business and was very wealthy. As a congradulations gift, the man gave his son the generous offer of anything that he wanted in the world. The son once again said that he wanted a 1, 000 green golf balls. The man was furious but gave his son the golf balls. They separated once again but did not talk for almost 20 years because the man was so angry at his son. One day, his son got in a car accident and his father flew across America to come to his side. The son was in very bad shape. Despite all of their anger, the father said, "Why did you want all of those green golf balls all of these years?" The son looked into his eyes and said, "Well I..." And then he died.

Titana
2007-Sep-25, 12:40 AM
What? You mean I will never know why he wanted 1,000 green golf balls?.................:doh:



Titana

tdvance
2007-Sep-25, 06:23 PM
In a similar class of stories to the golf ball one:



There was once a hotel famous for its nine hundred ninety-nine
thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps.

A man came to the hotel's front desk and asked for a room. "The only
rooms left", said the manager, "are on the top floor and you have to
climb nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps to get there."

The man replied, "That's ok," and he took the key and climbed the nine
hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps and
entered his room.

Then, the man rang for room service. The attendant went up the nine
hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps and asked
the man what he would like. The man said, "a bowl of rice krispies."

So the attendant went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine
hundred ninety-nine steps, filled a bowl with rice krispies, went up
the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps,
and said, "Here are your rice krispies."

"Oh," said the man, "You forgot the milk."

So, the attendent went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine steps, poured a decanter of milk, went back
up the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps, and said, "Here is your milk." The man poured the milk on his
cereal and tried it, and said, "It needs some sugar."

So, the attendent went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine steps, poured a crucible of sugar, went back
up the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps, and said, "Here is your sugar."

"Thank you, that is all." said the man. The attendent then returned
down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps.

Another man came to the hotel's front desk and asked for a room. "The
only rooms left", replied the manager, "are on the top floor and you have
to climb nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps to get there."

The man replied, "Ok, no problem." He then took the key and climbed the nine
hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps and
entered his room.

Then, the man rang for room service. The attendant went up the nine
hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps and asked
the man what he would like. The man said, "a bowl of rice krispies."

So the attendant went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine
hundred ninety-nine steps, filled a bowl with rice krispies, went up
the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps,
and said, "Here are your rice krispies."

"Oh," said the man, "You forgot the milk."

So, the attendent went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine steps, poured a decanter of milk, went back
up the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps, and said, "Here is your milk." The man poured the milk on his
cereal and tried it, and said, "It needs some sugar."

So, the attendent went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine steps, poured a crucible of sugar, went back
up the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps, and said, "Here is your sugar."

"Thank you, that is all." said the man. The attendent then returned
down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps.

Then, a third man came to the hotel's front desk and asked for a room.
"The only rooms left", said the manager, "are on the top floor and you
have to climb nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred
ninety-nine steps to get there."

The man replied, "That's ok," and he took the key and climbed the nine
hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps and
entered his room.

Then, the man rang for room service. The attendant went up the nine
hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps and asked
the man what he would like. The man said, "a bowl of corn flakes."

So the attendant went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine
hundred ninety-nine steps, filled a bowl with corn flakes, went up
the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine steps,
and said, "Here are your corn flakes."

"Oh," said the man, "You forgot the milk."

So, the attendent went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine steps, poured a decanter of milk, went back
up the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps, and said, "Here is your milk." The man poured the milk on his
cereal and tried it, and said, "It needs some sugar."

So, the attendent went down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand,
nine hundred ninety-nine steps, poured a crucible of sugar, went back
up the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps, and said, "Here is your sugar."

"Thank you, that is all." said the man. The attendent then returned
down the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine
steps.

The moral is, two out of three hotel guests prefer rice krispies to
cornflakes.

mike alexander
2007-Sep-25, 08:15 PM
A variant on tdvance's excellent story (not mine):

During the 4th of July parade in a small western town a group of cowboys was bringing its herd of cows to the cattle lot on the other side of the hamlet. Unfortunately, to get there they had to cross Main Street, where the high school band was just starting its performance. The Parade Marshall ran up to stop them from crossing the street. "You can't drive those cows through our orchestra!" he cried.

The oldest cowboy leaned back and said, "Whalll... what would it be worth to you to let us go through?"

The Marshall thought for a moment. "It would have to be pretty good, something extra special."

The cowpoke reached into his saddlebag and handed the Marshall a small packet. "Lissen. In here is a bunch of marijuanna suppositories. Getcha high as a kite an' no one will know. Is it a deal?" The Marshall nodded, ordered the band to stop and let the cows across the thoroughfare.

Proving that a herd in the band is worth boo in the tush.

mike alexander
2007-Sep-25, 08:35 PM
A rather nondescript fellow turned up at the Legion of Superheroes headquarters and applied for admission to the select group. “Oh, really?” Saturn Girl sneered. “And just what is your particular super power?”

“I can turn any objects into small crustaceans by singing at them,” he replied.

“Brother. This I have to see,” she said. Pointing at a cage behind her with a pair of budgies in it she told him to have at it or get out.

Shrugging, he faced the cage and began to sing. Within seconds the creatures grew wet and pink, collapsing into a small pile of tiny shrimplike organisms.

“Amazing!” she cried and signed him up, showing that if you want to become a superhero it’s sufficient to be able to krill two birds with one’s tone.

ABR.
2007-Dec-04, 08:00 PM
I've got a better Shaggy Dog in the works, but this thread has been languishing away for far too long.

*****************************
The Lurking Horror

One fine eon, a primordially-putrescent-one on vacation from the places-that-lie-beyond-the-imagination-and aside-from-the-conscious-belief, decided to journey to Earth to visit his dark masters. His masters were deep in slumber in the dark ocean bottoms, under sleepy New England towns and Washington, D.C.

Disappointed, he chose to investigate the denizens of this bright, wet planet. He reshaped his body into the rough approximation of a human, draping himself in a dark overcoat and stuffing his tentacles into a hat. Finally, he secured a pair of sunglasses onto his body roughly in the appropriate place. Then he walked the dark streets and alleys of the cities under which his dark masters slumbered.

One night as he walked yet another endless city, a form straightened itself from the shadows, took a deep draught from a bottle hidden in a paper bag, and stumbled towards him. "Want a swig?"

The primordially-monstrous sickeningly absorbed the bottle, bag and booze. The creature frowned in displeasure. "C'mon. Let's get more booze."

"What…is…booze?" The primordially-outré-one uttered in a raspy batrachian-like voice.

"Why, it's one of the two most important things in the world! Of course, I can't afford the good stuff, mind you. I make my own -- use my own socks as a filter. It's gnarly, though tepid."

"What," he interrupted the human, "is the other?"

"Girls, of course."

"Ex…plain." So the creature told the primordially-grotesque-one all about girls, complete with slightly inappropriate hand gestures. When at last the creature grew quiet, he commanded, "Show me."

So the bedraggled creature took him to the nearest bar to find a girl. "Now you just watch how it's done." He walked over to the bar and sat next to a girl and began talking. Thus seeing how it was done, the primordially-yucky-one walked to another part of the bar towards another girl.

"Hello."

"Hi there, stranger. I'm Lauren, my place or yours?"

"Mine," he said, pleased with the ease of it all. He transported them both to the places-not-to-be-described and they both undressed. Yet, when he beheld the girl, he immediately transported them both back to the bar. All the denizens of the bar, except for the creature, fled at the sight of him.

"The girl -- Lauren -- is not as you described!"

The creature, indignant at losing his female companion as well as his bottle, looked over at Lauren, bare as the primordial being-of-which-even-nightmares-would-be-scared-to-be-made-of and snapped, "You fool, Lauren is Ned!"

peteshimmon
2009-Oct-30, 10:03 PM
Just the place for an item I just came across
from the beginnings of the Canal age. The
government of the time wanted to hire barges
for important movements of secret military
items and such barges were to be given right
of way through the waterways displaying a
placard at the front, "Barge on Lease" or
usually just the acronym.

There were even plans to build extra locks
alongside exising ones especially for these
barges but nothing came of it.