A retired four-star general ran into his former orderly, also retired, in a Manhattan bar and spent the rest of the evening persuading him to come work for him as his butler.
“Your duties will be exactly the same as they were in the army,” the general said. “Nothing to it-you’ll catch on again fast.”
Next morning promptly at eight o’clock, the ex-orderly entered the ex-general’s bedroom, pulled open the drapes, gave the general a gentle shake, strode around the other side of the bed, spanked his employer’s wife on her bottom and said, “OK, sweetheart, it’s back to the village for you.”
Mrs. Peterson phoned the repairman because her dishwasher quit working. He couldn’t accommodate her with an “after-hours” appointment and since she had to go to work, she told him, “I’ll leave the key under the mat. Fix the dishwasher, leave the bill on the counter, and I’ll mail you a check. By the way, I have a large Rottweiler inside named Killer; he won’t bother you. I also have a parrot, and whatever you do, do not talk to the bird!”
Well, sure enough the dog, Killer, totally ignored the repairman, but the whole time he was there, the parrot cursed, yelled, screamed, and about drove him nuts.
As he was ready to leave, he couldn’t resist saying, “You stupid bird, why don’t you shut up!”
To which the bird replied, “Killer, get him!!!”
A woman goes into the local newspaper office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is published.
After the editor informs her that the fee for the obituary is 50 cents a word, she pauses, reflects and then says, “Well, then, let it read ‘Fred Brown died’.”
Confounded at the woman’s thrift, the editor stammers that there is a 7-word minimum for all obituaries. The woman pauses again, counts on her fingers and replies, “In that case, make it read ‘Fred Brown died: 1983 Pick-up for sale.'”
Shakey went to a psychiatrist. “Doc,” he said, “I’ve got trouble. Every time I get into bed, I think there’s somebody under it. I get under the bed, I think there’s somebody on top of it. Top, under, top, under. You gotta help me, I’m going crazy!”
“Let me take care of it,” said the shrink. “Come to me three times a week, and I’ll cure your fears.”
“How much do you charge?”
“A hundred dollars per visit.”
“I’ll sleep on it,” said Shakey.
Six months later the doctor met Shakey on the street. “Why didn’t you ever come to see me again?” asked the psychiatrist.
“For a hundred bucks a visit? A bartender cured me for ten dollars.”
“Is that so! How?”
“He told me to cut the legs off the bed!”
A man returned to his parked BMW to find the headlights broken and considerable damage to the front end of the car. There was no sign of the offending vehicle, but he was relieved to see that there was a note stuck under the windshield wiper.
The note read: “Sorry I just backed into your car. The witnesses who saw the accident are nodding and smiling at me because they think I’m leaving my name, address and other particulars, But I’m not.”