A man started a tradition of taking his young son camping every New Year’s Eve. Since they lived in the South, though it still got cold on New Year’s Eve, it was not the biting cold of the North and, with the older man and the young fellow bundled up warmly, the temperatures were not unbearable. But the son didn’t have the taste for camping and for nature that his dad did.

Their equipment was on the primitive side: No air mattresses, for example–they slept in plain old sleeping bags. And they slept inside an old World War I army surplus tent.

Alas, one year the well-worn tent finally succumbed to a rip in the canvas, and in the middle of the night a nocturnal bird got into the tent, startling the son horribly. Frightened, he grabbed up his backpack and sleeping bag, pulled his dad to his feet, and headed out into the night, running toward where they had left their van.

“Wait!” said the father, mindful that the son was leaving something behind. “Should owled and quaint tents be forgot?”

A man walks into a coffee shop, and is given a huge mug. But when he tries to drink from it, he discovers the mug contains a pair of beige cotton trousers. He complains to the counter staff, but doesn’t get anywhere. So they call the manager.

“But it’s exactly what you asked for,” the manager says.

Replies the customer, “How can this possibly be what I ordered?”

“It’s a cup o’ chinos,” says the manager.

Big Louie the Torpedo was becoming increasingly curious about one of the newer members of his mob, Benny the Rod. Benny had been in the business for many years in another part of the country. During that time he had garnered quite a reputation for being the most conscientious and honorable hit man available.

He was also considered quite eccentric, perhaps odd, in that for the last ten years or so he always kept one hand in his pocket – clutching his cold steel weapon in readiness (hence the nickname, Benny the Rod).

When Benny arrived at Louie’s office, the question was put to him.

“So what’s the story with you and this here gun of yours, eh? Like, are you scared or somethin’ or you just want to always be ready or what?”

“Not scared …” Benny growled, “been doin’ it dis way ever since me sister-in-law’s weddin’ ’bout ten years ago now.”

“Oh yeah?… So …?”

“Well, I useta know her fiance at da time – a no good chiseler who made it wit all da dames. He never even loved the goil so much… But he made her happy, and so I kept me mouth shut about it,” Benny explained.

Louie leaned in, expecting the point of the matter.

“And since dat time I gotta do it dis way.”

“But WHY?!”, Louie finally demanded?

“Well, I was at da wedding,” grumbled Benny, and I wasn’t about to say nuttin’ about it then, so now I gotta do like da preacher said …

‘Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Piece!’ ”

Which book is about chickens?

The hen-cyclopedia.

A pirate walked into a bar and the bartender said, “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a while. What happened? You look terrible.”

“What do you mean?” said the pirate, “I feel fine.”

“What about the wooden leg? You didn’t have that before.”

“Well, we were in a fierce battle, and I got hit with a cannon ball, but I’m fine now.”

“Well, ok, but what about that hook? What happened to your hand?”

“We were in another battle. I boarded a ship and got into a sword fight. My hand was cut off. I got fitted with a hook. I’m fine, really.”

“What about that eye patch?”

“Oh, one day we were at sea and a flock of birds flew over. I looked up and one of them crapped in my eye.”

“You’re kidding,” said the bartender, “you couldn’t lose an eye just from some bird crap.”

“It was my first day with the hook.”

Where do pigs sit?

On pork benches.

I have this friend who always seemed to lean slightly to the left all the time. It used to bother me, so I suggested he see a doctor, and have his legs checked out. For years, he refused… told me I was crazy.

But last week, he finally went, and sure enough, the doctor discovered his left leg was 1/4″ shorter than his right. A quick bit of orthopedic surgery later, he was cured, and both legs are exactly the same length now, and he no longer leans.

“So,” I said, “You didn’t believe me when I told you a doctor could fix your leg.” He just looked at me and said, . . .“I stand corrected.”

There was an ancient religious order who only practiced their rites in natural surroundings, never in buildings. Their favorite site was a clearing deep in a dark forest where they could celebrate their mass undisturbed.

A young member of the order wanted badly to become a priest and was given the opportunity to try out’, so to speak by demonstrating his knowledge of their mass by officiating. Not wanting to take a chance of forgetting the words, he copied all the words onto a scroll, dug a pit beneath one of the trees in the clearing where the demonstration was to take place and secretly buried the scroll there well in advance of the appointed time.

He was, of course, nervous when the time came and part way through the rite, he could not remember the words. Unfortunately, he had also forgotten under which tree he had buried the scroll and he was not able to find it and complete the rite.

He flunked the test because he couldn’t tell his mass from a scroll in the ground!

While Christmas shopping at a local toy store, Barry came across a long line of people waiting for a promised shipment of dolls from Mattel. As he scanned the line, he noticed his friend, Wally, waiting with all the others.

Knowing that Wally had no daughters or young relatives, Barry figured that Wally must like the dolls himself.

"Wally, I didn't know you were a collector!"

"I'm not," Wally replied.

"Then why are you standing in this long line?"

"Well, I've never been able to resist a barbie queue!"

What's the most popular wine at Christmas?

"Do I have to eat my Brussels sprouts?"

In my travels, I recently drove through a small southern town and came upon a Nativity Scene that had been created with great skill and talent. The only thing that I couldn't understand was why the three wise men were wearing firemen's helmets.

At a "Quicky Mart" at the edge of town, I asked the lady behind the counter about the helmets. She exploded into a rage, yelling at me, "You Yankees never do read the Bible!" I assured her that I did, but that I simply couldn't recall anything about firemen in the Bible.

She jerked her Bible out from behind the counter, ruffled through some pages, and finally jabbed her finger at a passage. Sticking it in my face, she said, "See, it says right here: the three Wise Men came from afar..."

The 98 year old Mother Superior from Ireland was dying. The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her last journey comfortable. They gave her some warm milk to drink but she refused. Then one of the nuns took the glass back to the kitchen. Remembering a bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.

Back at Mother Superior’s bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother drank a little, then a little more, and before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop.

“Mother,” the nuns asked with earnest, “Please, give us some wisdom before you die.”

She raised herself up in bed and with a pious look on her face said, “Don’t sell that cow.”

While a youth, King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him right then, but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So, the monarch offered him freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer; and if, after a year, he had no answer, he would be put to death.

The question: what do women really want?

Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and, to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch’s proposition to have an answer by year’s end.

He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everybody: the princesses, the prostitutes, the priests, the wise men, the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult an old witch that lived in a far corner of his kingdom — only she would know the answer. The price would be high; the witch was known throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.

Having no answer, Arthur had no alternative but to approach the witch. She told him she knew the answer and agreed to answer his question, but he’d have to accept her price first: The old witch wanted to marry Gawain, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur’s closest friend! Young Arthur was horrified: She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth and smelled like sewage. Having never encountered such a repugnant creature, he refused to force his friend to marry her and have to endure such a burden.

Gawain, upon learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He told him that nothing was too big a sacrifice compared to Arthur’s life and the preservation of the Round Table. Hence, the wedding was proclaimed, and the witch answered Arthur’s question thus:

What a woman really wants is to be in charge of her own life.

Everyone instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur’s life would be spared. And so it was. The neighboring monarch granted Arthur a total pardon.

What a wedding Gawain and the witch had! Arthur was torn between relief and anguish. Gawain was proper as always, gentle and courteous. The old witch put her worst manners on display, and there wasn’t a guest that didn’t pity Gawain!

The honeymoon hour approached. Gawain, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But what a sight awaited him! The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen lay before him! The astounded Gawain asked what had happened. The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she’d appeared as a witch, she would henceforth be her horrible, deformed self half the time, and the other half, she would be her beautiful maiden self. Which would he want her to be during the day, and which during the night?

What a cruel question! Gawain pondered his predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his home, an old witch? Or would he prefer having by day a hideous witch, but by night a beautiful woman with whom to enjoy many intimate moments?

Noble Gawain replied that he would let her choose for herself. Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.

What is the moral of this story?

The moral is: If your woman doesn’t get her own way, things are going to get ugly!

A woman, who was on a perennial diet, starved her husband right along with herself, till he complained to his pastor that he couldn’t get his wife to serve him a decent meal and he was growing positively malnourished.

“I can’t get her to listen to reason. Maybe you can get somewhere with her,” the hubby complained.

So the pastor counselled the ever-dieting woman, who at last saw the error of her ways.

“What shall I do to make amends?” she asked her spiritual counselor.

He told her, “Just repent and thin no more.”

An elderly couple had dinner at another couple’s house and, after eating, the wives left the table and went into the kitchen.

The two elderly gentlemen were talking, and one says, “Last night we went out to a new restaurant, and it was really great. I would recommend it very highly.”

The other man says, “What’s the name of the restaurant?”

The first man knits his brow in obvious concentration, and finally says to his companion, “Aahh, what is the name of that red flower you give to someone you love?”

His friend replies, “A carnation?”

“No, no. The other one,” the man says.

His friend offers another suggestion, “The poppy?”

“Nahhhh,” growls the man. “You know – the one that is red and has thorns.”

His friend says, “Do you mean a rose?”

“Yes! Thank you!” the first man says. He then turns toward the kitchen and yells, “Rose, what’s the name of that restaurant we went to last night?”

Two painters, one an old man and the other a youngster, were painting a very large home. It was getting late in the day when they reached the second floor.

There ahead of them was a very long corridor. The older painter said, "I've had enough for one day I quit. How about you?"

With that the younger painter headed toward the corridor and said, "Not me I'm in this for the long hall."

This scoutmaster and his wife were driving along a rural highway, when they found the road blocked by a herd of cows that had escaped through a broken fence. The scoutmaster tried honking his horn to scare the cattle from the pavement, but to no avail. For some reason, no sound was heard from the horn.

He got out of the car, lifted the hood, and saw the problem, a loose wire, which he quickly fixed. As he got back into the car, his wife asked him if he’d had any luck.

“Yep”, he replied. “Beep repaired!”

As the blond was standing by the first tee waiting for her golf lesson from the club’s pro, she watched a foursome in the process of teeing off. The first golfer addressed the ball and swung, hitting it 230 yards straight down the middle of the fairway.

“That was a really good shot,” said the blond.

“Not bad considering my impediment,” said the golfer.

“What do you mean?

“I have a glass eye,” said the golfer.

“I don’t believe you!”

So he popped out his eye out and showed her.

The next golfer addressed the ball and swung, hitting it 240 yards straight down the middle of the fairway. Again, the blonde exclaimed, “That was a really good shot!”

“Not bad considering my impediment,” said the golfer.

“What’s wrong with you?” said the blond.

“I have a prosthetic arm,” he replied.

“I don’t believe you, show me,” said the blond. So he screwed his arm off and showed it to her.

The next golfer addressed the ball and swung, hitting it 250 yards straight down the middle of the fairway. “That was a really good shot,” said the blond.

“Not bad considering my impediment,” said the golfer.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I have a prosthetic leg.”

“I don’t believe you!”

So that golfer screwed his leg off and showed it to her.

The fourth golfer then addressed his ball, swung, and blasted it 280 yards straight down the middle of the fairway .

“That was a wonderful shot,” said the blond.

“Not bad considering my impediment,” said the golfer.

“Now what’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“I have an artificial heart,” said the golfer.

“I don’t believe you, show me.”

“Well, I can’t show you out here,” the golfer said. “Come around behind the Pro-Shop.”

As he nor the blond had not returned after a few minutes, his golf buddies decided to go see what was holding things up. As they turned the corner and went behind the Pro-Shop, sure enough, there was their pal — screwing his heart out.

Which is the most feared of the forest inhabitants?

The hawk claimed that, because he had the ability to fly, he could attack anything from above, and his prey wouldn’t have a prayer.

“Due to my strength, no one would challenge me!” said the lion, pride fully.

The skunk, incensed, said, “I need neither flight nor might to frighten off any creature!”

The trio were debating the issue, when a grizzly bear came along and swallowed them all; hawk, lion, and stinker.

Once upon a time there was a little girl who wanted a kitten for Christmas. Now, her mother couldn’t buy a kitten and wrap it up for Christmas Day, so she bought it a week before Christmas and gave it to the little girl.

“You’re getting your Christmas present a week early this year,” her mother explained and handed over the fluffy little tabby kitten. “Is this what you wanted?”

The little girl, whose name was Kitty, said, “It’s wonderful, Mother…just what I wanted. There’s just one thing wrong!”

“What’s that?” her mother asked.

“Well, it has a cute little claw on the outside of every paw and a cute little claw on the inside of every paw – but the poor little thing has no claws at all in the middle of its paws!”

Her mother smiled. “Don’t worry, Kitty….when you wake up on Christmas morning you’ll find the claws are there.”

Now Kitty loved her kitten dearly, but she worried about the claws in the middle of its paws. The days passed and there wasn’t even a hint, a clue, or an inkling of claws in the middle of its paws!

When Christmas Eve arrived and there was still no sign, Kitty went to her mother and asked again, “Are you absolutely sure that the kitten will have its middle claws tomorrow? There’s only a few hours to go and there’s not a hint or clue, or an inkling as to claws as far as I can see!”

“Wait ’till you wake up on Christmas morning,” her mother smiled and went on stuffing the turkey.

So, Kitty went to sleep a worried little girl. And when she woke up on Christmas morning she ignored the presents in her stocking and rushed downstairs to look at her little kitten.

She was astounded, amazed and just a little surprised to see that her kitten had four claws on every paw! The middle ones had appeared as if by magic.

Kitty rushed to her parent’s bedroom. “Mummy, Mummy! The kitten has grown its middle claws!’”

“Of course it has,” her mother grinned.

“But how did you know?” Kitty demanded.

Her father rolled over sleepily and sighed,”Oh, Kitty, everybody knows….that Center-claws always comes at Christmas!”

Speaking of travels, I heard that when Marco Polo first opened the trade routes to China, he was quite impressed with their rockets. Now, these weren’t quite the fireworks we now know, but they did shoot into the air, explode and make some pretty patterns. Strangely, no matter where he went, there were people who made fireworks, but he had trouble finding someone to demonstrate them for him.

“Not here!” they said. …very confusing. Until Marco came upon an ancient military fortification at the community of Chu’Lai. Here, fireworks were launched every night, and Marco was very impressed!

But still he wondered, “Why here?” At the end of every week, people came from great distances, bringing their own fireworks to launch. So Marco Polo asked his guide why everyone came here to launch their fireworks.

The guide answered, "Why honored Sir, We always set off fireworks on the Forts of Chu’Lai”

Joe and Frank were in the office, and noticed that someone had put up a suggestion box with some 3×5 cards next to it. Both decided that this was a great idea, and each took a card to fill out.

Joe wrote, “The office workers should all be given raises!” When he looked at Frank’s card, it said “Can we all have raises, and keys to the executive washroom, and personal secretaries, and new company cars, and new coffee cups, and longer lunch breaks, and an extra three-weeks holiday each year?”

Joe said, “Frank, that isn’t the right way of getting things changed around here — you shouldn’t put all of your begs in one ask-it…”

What's the laziest part of a car?

The wheels - they're always tired.

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.

Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So, he asked them, “What’s the Purple Wombat?”

“You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.

“Hey, Mister Bus Driver!” one of the children shouted. “Billy doesn’t know what the Purple Wombat is!”

The bus driver turned around abruptly. “You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.

Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the Pledge of Allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.

Billy’s hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, “Teacher, what’s the Purple Wombat?”

“You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” the teacher cried in alarm, “Get yourself to the principal’s office right now, young man. No, no buts — march!”

So, Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal’s office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.

“Well, Billy,” he began slowly. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Mr. Principal, I just don’t know what’s going on today. Everyone’s been acting weird, and they’re all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff.”

“Now, Billy, I’m here to help you. I’m the principal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone’s acting so strangely?”

“It’s because I don’t know what some stupid Purple Wombat is.”

“What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is? That’s it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended.”

The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.

“Billy!” she called, sobbing, “I was so worried about you! What happened?”

“Mom,” Billy cried, “Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal’s office and the principal suspended me, all because I don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!”

“What? You don’t know what the Purple Wombat is?” Billy’s mother shrieked. “Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!”

So, Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn’t know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.

“Billy,” his father began in that lecturing-father tone, “Your mother says you’ve been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you’ve done?”

“Dad, I haven’t done anything! I just don’t know what the Purple Wombat is!”

“You…don’t know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!”

Billy’s father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way — lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.

Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: “Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy.”

Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy.”

It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat.”

Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy.”

The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn’t care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy.”

Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But, he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy.”

Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I’m out here, Billy.”

It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But, he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.

“Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy.”

The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: “Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I’m up here, Billy.”

It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn’t know how to swim, so he drowned.

Moral of this story: Don’t stand up in a boat.

The confused young man just couldn’t decide whether to marry Kathryn or Edith. Try as he might, he just could not make up his mind.

Unwilling to give up either, he strung them along for far too long. This indecision continued until both young women got tired of the situation and left him for good.

Moral of the story: You can’t have your Kate and Edith, too.

What do you call a super pig that can climb up the sides of buildings?

Spiderham.

Attila the Hun was riding across Eastern Europe pillaging, burning, and raping. As he came up to the next small village in his path, he brought his horde to a halt. There was a small, naked boy standing in the middle of the road. The little boy was eating M&Ms. This has nothing to do with the story, but adds a little human interest.

Well, Attila and the horde had a good laugh, and Attila decides to spare the little boy’s life. He ordered one of his men to throw the little boy off the road. The soldier got off his horse and started for the boy. When he got about 10 feet from the little boy, the little boy started peeing at the man. Well, Attila and the rest of horde had another good laugh, but it pissed off the soldier. The closer the soldier got to the little boy, the harder the stream of pee from the little boy. Before the soldier got to the boy the stream of pee was so powerful it knocked the soldier down and rolled him back to his horse.

Attila’s soldiers, one by one, tried to move the little boy off the road but each time the same thing happened.

Finally, Attila shouted, “Enough!” He got off his horse walked over to the little boy, who was still peeing, and threw him off the road. Attila walked back to his horse.

One of his generals said, “Attila, all of your soldiers, some of the meanest, roughest, toughest men alive could not get to the boy! How is it you were able to reach the boy without being knocked down by the little boy’s pee?”

Attila replied, … “I’m not affected by peer pressure.”

If an athlete gets athlete's foot, what does a scuba diver get?

Undertow.

A prominent banker gave his teenage daughter, a student at the Actors’ Studio, a pedigreed pup for her birthday, warning her that the little dog had not yet been housebroken.

Sure enough, an hour later, when he wandered into his daughter’s study, he found her contemplating a small puddle in the center of the room.

“My pup,” she murmured sadly, “runneth over.”

It was a hot summer’s day, and Luke was in the marina, having a few beers aboard his boat, patriotically named the Fourth of July. He was waiting for his friend, Opie, to arrive so they could go for a cruise.

Opie was late, unfortunately, because he had to pick up his wife from her appointment with the obstetrician. Her examinations were cheap because the doctor, a fellow named Juan, was Opie’s cousin. Anyway, the appointment went over time, and Opie was late getting to the marina.

Luke had been drinking all this time, and was feeling no pain. When he saw Opie finally walking down the pier, he jumped up, staggered to the side of the boat to wave to his friend, and nearly fell in! Opie got there just in time to grab Luke.

Thus, it was that O.B. Juan’s kin, Opie, saved Luke from falling to the dock side of the Fourth.

Why was the cannibal suspended from school?

He tried to butter up his teacher.

If an athlete gets athlete's foot, what does an astronaut get?

Missile toe.