Complex
Extended Puns -- Real Groaners
Here are more groaners.
The
Last Nun
Outside a small Macedonian
village close to the border between Greece and strife-torn Yugoslavia,
a lone Orthodox nun keeps quiet watch over a silent convent. She is the
last caretaker of a site of significant historical developments spanning
more than 2,000 years. When Sister Maria Cyrilla of the Order of the Perpetual
Vigil dies, the convent of St. Elias will be closed by the Eastern Orthodox
Patriarch of Macedonia. However, that isn't likely to happen soon, as
Sister Maria, 53, enjoys excellent health. By her own estimate, she walks
10 miles daily about the grounds of the convent, land which once served
as a base for the army of Attila the Hun.
In more ancient times,
a Greek temple to Eros, the god of love, occupied the hilltop site. Historians
say that Attila took over the old temple in 439 A.D. and used it as a
base for his marauding army.
The Huns are believed to
have first collected and then destroyed a large collection of Greek legal
writs at the site. It is believed that Attila wanted to study the Greek
legal system and had the writs and other documents brought to the temple.
Scholars differ on why he had the valuable documents destroyed - either
because he was barely literate and couldn't read or because they provided
evidence of democratic government that did not square with his own notion
of rule by an all-powerful tyrant.
When the Greek Church took
over the site in the 15th Century and the convent was built, church leaders
ordered the pagan statue of Eros destroyed, so another ancient Greek treasure
was lost. Today, there is only the lone sister, watching over the old
Hun base, amidst the strife of war-torn Yugoslavia, and when she is no
longer, the story will be over.
That's how it ends: No
Huns, no writs, no Eros, and nun left on base.
During the French Revolution,
the "common people" were intent on ridding themselves of all vestiges
of the Royalty and nobility. The Reign of Terror ensued and all nobility
was hunted down. Some were allowed to leave the country, however most
were executed at the guillotine. One nobleman in particular had sent his
family into hiding in hopes of saving them. Soon he was caught. The crowd
searched in vain for his family, but they were well hidden. Threats were
made but he always replied, "I'll never tell!". Finally the crowd dragged
him to the guillotine and offered to let he and his family leave the country
if he would only disclose their location. Again he replied "I'll never
tell!". They dragged him up onto the platform next to the horrible machine
and asked him again. Still he replied "I'll never tell!". They laid his
neck across the cutting board and asked him once more. Again he replied
"I'll never tell!". They slowly hoisted the blade and again asked for
the location of his family. Weakly he replied " I'll never tell". They
waited to see if his resolve would fail, he remained silent. Just as the
executioner pulled the release and the blade began to fall the Count called
out "Wait, I'll tell, I'll t....."
The moral to this story,
don't hatchet your Count before he chickens!
-- Thanks to Frank Brown,
BrownF-CIC-TI@micmac.redstone.army.mil
King Arthur sends Sir Lancelot
out on an important mission to deliver a message to the king of Spain.
It is a long distance, and Lancelot looks in the Kingdom for a good horse
to take him there. His own horse is sick, and all he can find is an old
mare, but, since he has to leave quickly, he takes the mare.
About 3 days out of the
Kingdom, Lancelot realizes his mistake. The horse gets tired and appears
to be going lame. He finally makes it to a small village and gets to the
Inn. He goes up to the Innkeeper and explains his problem. That is, he
needs a good horse so that he can fulfill his mission to deliver the message
for the king. The Innkeeper replies that this is only a small village,
and most of the horses around are not up to the task. He is welcome to
look around, however, and if he can find anything, he is certainly welcome
to it.
Lancelot looks around the
village, and true as the Innkeeper has said, no good horse is to be found.
As Lancelot is about to give up, he comes across a stable boy carting
some feed. He asks the stable boy if there is any beast of burden in the
village that he can use to fulfill his mission. The stable boy thinks
for a minute, and starts to reply no, but then says, go see if Old Mange
in the barn can help you.
Lancelot goes over to the
barn expecting to find a horse. What he finds is a very large dog: almost
as large as a pony. The dog is a mess, however. It is mangy, parts of
its fur are falling off, and it is full of fleas. Lancelot is desperate
at this point, and he looks it over carefully. It does, however, appear
to be strong enough to take him to Spain (which is only 3 days away at
this point).
Lancelot goes back to the
Innkeeper, and acknowledges that he cannot find a horse in the village
that he can use. He says, however that this dog, Old Mange, might be able
to take him most (if not all) of the way to his destination. The Innkeeper
hears this, stiffens up, and says : Sir. I wouldn't send a Knight out
on a dog like that.
-- Thanks to Steve Jacobson,
sajjac@winternet.com
On a bright and sunny morning
in May, Farmer Jones went out to plow his fields. He led old Bessie, his
plow horse, out of the barn and hitched her up to the plow. The aroma
of newly plowed earth wafted behind him as he produced a ruler straight
furrow across the field. Suddenly his reverie was broken as a strong earthquake
struck. As the ground shook beneath his feet, he fell to his knees. His
plow fell over almost on top of him, as did old Bessie. But, beyond the
fence in the next field, the bull remained standing.
Farmer Jones stood, dusted
himself off, and grabbed the reins to right old Bessie. He pulled the
plow upright, hitched up the horse again and began to plow. Shaken somewhat
by the strange experience, the furrow began to zig a little from side
to side as Bessie pulled the plow blade through the fertile ground. After
only a few seconds a strong aftershock rolled through the farm. Again
it was strong enough to knock Farmer Jones from his feet, topple his plow,
and with a loud protest, drive old Bessie to the ground. This time the
farmer looked back across the field toward the house and noticed that
the goats and cows had fallen over, too .... But, beyond the fence in
the next field, the bull remained standing.
Shaken and puzzled, Farmer
Jones picked himself up and dusted off his overalls. Righting the horse
and plow, he quieted old Bessie as best he could. She seemed more rattled
by all this that he was. As strong as the two earthquakes were, Farmer
Jones could not understand how the bull remained standing. So he started
toward the other field to see if he could find out what was going on with
the bull. As he crossed the field, and climbed through the fence into
the field where the bull stood, a very strong aftershock struck -- much
worse than either of the preceding earthquakes -- putting him on the ground
flat on his face. Looking behind himself he saw Old Bessie and the plow
had fallen down again. Down toward the house the goats and cows had fallen
down again. In fact, this aftershock was so strong that the chickens had
fallen over as well. The front porch on the farmhouse had crashed down
and the walls looked as though they would not last much longer. But, only
a few feet away from him, the bull remained standing.
He picked himself up, dusted
off, and without bothering to right either horse or plow, marched toward
the bull. Shaken to the core, puzzled and angry, Farmer Jones shouted,
demanding to know why everything on the farm had been knocked over by
the earthquakes and the bull had remained on his feet. Much to Farmer
Jones' astonishment, the bull replied, "We bulls wobble, but we don't
fall down!"
--Thanks to Kyna & Gary
Hendra, hendra@macscouter.com
It seems there was a friendly
little bar right next to a medical training hospital in the big city.
Many of the doctors and nurses would stop in there on their way home,
after long shifts in the hospital. One day, a local college student named
Gina, intent on earning book money for the next term, came into the bar
looking for a job as an evening bartender. As it happened, one of the
bartenders had just quit, providing the needed open position. The owner
was quite happy to give her the position and began her training that evening.
As she was being briefed
about the "regulars", the subject of one of the more unusual doctors came
up. Every day, at the end of his shift, one particular Doctor Avery came
in for a rather unusual drink. He always ordered a Walnut Daiquiri. A
Walnut Daiquiri is a strange drink -- not the kind of fruity drink one
would expect. It was thought the good doctor must have invented it for
himself, finding some special pleasure in the taste of walnuts.
A few days later Doctor
Avery arrived just as the new bartender, Gina, was going on duty. When
queried as to his desired libation, as expected, the doctor ordered a
Walnut Daiquiri. The bar tender set about making the daiquiri, and discovered
to her horror that there were no walnuts to be found. She quickly searched
behind the bar, the refrigerators and in the back room. Nothing! She was
in a fix -- she wanted to keep Doctor Avery as a good customer, and didn't
want him to complain to her boss. Thinking quickly, she searched once
again for something to substitute. Finding another nut ... figuring that
this was a weird drink to begin with, and after a long day, the doctor
wouldn't notice, anyway.
Setting the drink before
the doctor, she could see a certain relief come over the him, as at the
end of a hard day, he anticipated the refreshment that awaited him. The
doctor raised the glass to his lips, took a big swallow, and coughing
and sputtering, demanded to know if she were attempting to poison him.
"Young lady, exactly WHAT is this you have just given me?" he demanded.
Putting on her best innocent face, Gina the new bartender replied, "Well,
that's a Hickory Daiquiri, Doc!"
--Thanks to Kyna & Gary
Hendra, hendra@macscouter.com
OK, you know that in Hollywood,
every movie producer has his "Yes Man" whose job is to follow the producer
around and say, "Yes, CB", "Right, CB" and so on. Well, one of these Yes
Men got depressed, so down in fact that he was unable to function. So he
consulted a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist quickly determined the problem,
and told the Yes Man that he just had to find a release for his negative
feelings, and say "No."
"But if I said 'no' I'd
get fired!" The yes man protested.
The psychiatrist said,
"Oh, I don't mean on the job, I mean go out to the Grand Canyon and find
a ledge off the trail, and there you can yell 'NO!' to your heart's content
and no one will be the wiser."
Well, the Yes Man decided
to try it. He went to the Grand Canyon and found a spot off the trail,
and stood there and very timidly said, "no." It felt good, so he tried
it a little louder, "No." Even better! soon he was shouting "NO,
NO, NO, NO, NO!!!!" at the top of
his lungs and feeling great.
He went back to work a
changed man, and said "Yes!" with all the proper enthusiam, because on
the weekend he could escape to the Grand Canyon and say "NO!" Other Yes
men decided to try this also, and soon every weekend the Grand Canyon
was crammed with Yes Men shouting "NO!"
A new Yes Man came to Hollywood,
and he too felt the need of such a release, but when he tried to find
a ledge in the Grand Canyon, all of them seemed to be taken. He hunted
and hunted, but everyplace he found was already taken by another Yes Man.
Finally he found a small
ledge which had been overlooked because of its size. Thankfully he scurried
out on it and stood there and said "No." It felt great! So he wound up
and released an enormous "NO!" and in so doing lost his
balance and fell to his death. Which just goes to prove that a little
No Ledge can be a dangerous thing.
-- Thanks to Hugh R Jochn
and Steven Andrew Wolfman, saw1@acpub.duke.edu
Ft. Worth - The Ft. Worth
Zoo today has an animal which may be the rival of Co-Co the gorilla. Maddie
the Gnu was to be moved to her new home in the Zoo this morning, but until
the Gnu's Pen could be readied, Richard Leak, the Zoo's African Fauna
expert, advised leaving Maddie in the bathroom. The bathroom had been
almost complete except for tiling the floor. This morning the floor was
completely tiled.
Zoo officials insist that
no one was in that bathroom all night except the wildebeast. If that is
true, the Wildebeast managed to tile 350 sq. feet of public bathroom in
one night.
"These animals have capabilities
we simply cannot know," was Richard Leak's comment on the subject.
Leak also lent some insight
on the circumstances of the animal's arrival: "[The Fort Worth Zoo] had
recently been given a large donation to make 'real wildlife' accessible
to the public, so I was asked to find ... perfectly average animals for
the zoo. This was supposed to be an absolutely typical wildebeast."
The bathroom mentioned is
a large public bathroom adjacent to the gnu's living area. The new marble
tiling for which Maddie is purportedly responsible was described as "excellent,
an incredible job" by the professional tiler who arrived today to do the
job.
Both the new bathroom and
the new animals are being funded by the same grant from Telco Corporation's
president and CEO, Linda Skarst. Ms. Skarst is a wildlife activist and
felt that exposure to real animals in their natural environments would
encourage children to become comfortable with wild animals.
When asked if Maddie could
still qualify as an average representative of her species after this incident,
Ms. Skarst replied, "Oh, yes! This just proves that Maddie is ... a typical
gnu and a tiler, too."
-- Thanks to Hugh R Jochn
and Steven Andrew Wolfman, saw1@acpub.duke.edu
On the topic of celestial guidance,
Rabbi Liebner has something of an odd contribution...
The town of Treadville was
small but prosperous and lay in a high valley surrounded by higher mountains.
The Treads (for that is what they named themselves) were wealthy enough
to love more than work and humble enough to make more than money. Little
disturbed their peace until a late autumn night.
On that night, the Treads
beheld a small but bright light gleaming from the top of a neighboring
mountain. Curious in their ease, they soon decided to climb the mountain
-- the highest of those around -- to discover the source of the light.
None arrived at the summit.
At a point about halfway to the peak an extension of the mountain, seemless
in the granite and shaped like an immense foot, lurched from the slope
and hurled the luckless climbers from the slope. Strangely, few were harmed
by the fall, but none reached the peak.
And so for years, decades,
and then centuries the Treads wondered what could be the source of that
radiant glow? Then, one day, one Rabbi Liebner entered the village and
learned of the mystery of Tread Valley. The Rabbi was fascinated by the
story and felt the touch of God in its weave. That night he watched the
light and knew. He knew that he had been chosen to seek its source.
The Treads were not jealous
of their mysteries; they invited the Rabbi to climb the peak the next
day... and made all preparations for his inevitable fall. Thus, he set
out.
That afternoon, Rabbi Liebner
reached Foot's Fall, the point where the mountain made its wishes known.....
and nothing happened. The Rabbi continued upwards to the cheers of the
town; at sunset he reached the summit.
There, on the mountain's
brow, he stumbled to a halt. Before him stood a brilliant temple bathed
in celestial light, encircled be a holy sheen. Rabbi Liebner was awed.
Finally, he summoned the strength to murmur a question and a prayer. "Oh
Lord, thank you for this vision! But why have I been chosen to surmount
this peak? Why not the good people of Treadville in the many years they
have tried?"
And to his eternal joy,
the Rabbi heard in a thunderous voice from heaven, "Silly Rabbi, kicks
are for Treads."
The other night my wife
yelled from the bathroom that there was a strange bug flying around in
there. She had just started to get her bath and get ready for bed. Sometimes
she likes to burn scented candles while relaxing and this was one of those
times. I came in and spotted a mosquito that was flitting around the light.
It had been trapped in a spider/cob web and was still dangling a pice
of web from it's body. This is what made it look so strange. Anyhow, I
picked up a slipper and started to swat the thing. Well I missed as usual
and asked my wife to hand me the fly swatter. I made one more swipe then
yelled "never mind." I had contacted on the last swing and knocked the
mosquito into the candle flame. There was a puff of smoke and the candle
went out. She asked if I got it. I picked up a pair of tweezers and lifted
the dead bug out of the melted wax and candle wick. As I held it up I
said "Yeah...I waxed the little sucker."
--Thanks to Randy Crowe
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