“What happened?” asked the hospital visitor to the heavily bandaged man sitting up in bed.
“Well, I went down to Alton towers and decided to take a ride on the Loch Ness Monster. As we came up to the top of the highest loop, I noticed a little sign by the side of the track. I tried to read it, but it was very small and I couldn’t make it out. I was so curious that I decided to go round again, but we went by so quickly that I couldn’t see what the sign said.
“By now, I was determined to read that sign, so I went round a third time. As we reached the top, I stood up in the car to get a better view.”
“And did you manage to see what the sign said this time?” asked the visitor.
“Yes,” he said sheepishly, “Remain seated at all times!”
Fay Chester was a busy housewife with a demanding husband, six children and a large house.
The only relief she got from her chores was the twice-a-week bridge game she shared with a dozen other women.
The only flaw in the bridge club relationship was that Fay loved to tell off-color stories and the girls didn’t want to hear them. To teach Fay a lesson, the other women decided that the next time she told an off-color story, they’d just get up, walk out, meet at another home but without Fay.
Sure enough, at the next meeting, Fay started, “You know, girls, there’s a rumor going around that a busload of prostitutes will be leaving in the morning for that big gold find up in Alaska, and they say….”
Just then, the women all stood up and started for the door.
Fay was disconcerted but only for a moment, then she understood what was going on and said, “Hey! Girls! Hold on, hold on! There’s plenty of time ’cause the bus doesn’t leave till morning!”
I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I noticed his DDS diploma on the wall, which bore his full name.
Suddenly, I remembered a tall, handsome, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in my high school class, some 30-odd years ago
Could he be the same guy that I had a secret crush on way back then? Upon seeing him, however, I quickly discarded any such thought. This balding, gray-haired man was way too old to have been my classmate.
After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Northmont high school.
“Yes. Yes, I did. I’m a thunderbolt,” he said gleaming with pride.
“When did you graduate?” I asked.
He answered, “in 1975. Why do you ask?”
“You were in my class!”, I exclaimed.
He looked at me closely, then, the ugly, old, bald, wrinkle-faced, fat, gray-haired, decrepit fool asked, “What did you teach?”