I was sitting in the waiting room for my first appointment with a new dentist. I noticed his diploma, which had 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, grey-haired man with the deeply lined face was way too old to have been my classmate.
After he examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended Morgan Park High school.
‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ he gleamed with pride.
‘When did you graduate?’ I asked.
He answered, ‘In 1967. Why do you ask?’
‘You were in my class!’ I exclaimed.
He looked at me closely. Then, that ugly, old, bald, wrinkled, fat, grey-haired man asked,
‘What did you teach?’
Little Blue Pills
Michael O’Riley and his wife both in their 80s arrive at the doctor’s office and sit across the desk from him holding hands.
“You are both looking fine, how can I help you today?”
Michael smiles shyly at him…
“Well Doctor, you see, I have heard that them little blue pills that are available on the health service might help Mary and I improve our love life.”
Slightly taken aback the doctor regarded the eager couple for a moment or two..
“Well Michael, you see, you have a heart condition and those pills now, could cause you a dreadful problem in that department, so I don’t think that it would be a good idea.”
“Well Doctor, said Mary, “Do you think we might give them a try just once or twice and see if they work or not?”
Reluctantly the doctor wrote out a prescription for 12 pills but with very strict instructions.
“You are to only take every other day.. So, Take Monday, skip Tuesday, take Wednesday, skip Thursday, take Friday, skip Saturday and take Sunday.
“Right you are doctor and thank you.” The couple went on the way happily clasping the prescription.
Three weeks later Mary comes to see the doctor and tearfully tells him that Michael has expired.
“Oh jeez, was it the pills? Did Michael take them as I prescribed?
“Of course doctor, just as you told us. Take Monday, skip Tuesday, take Wednesday, skip Thursday, take Friday, skip Saturday and take Sunday.
“Then what killed him Mary?”
“It was the skipping”.
A pirate and his hook.
A journalist in the 1950s decided that if he was going to interview one of the last remaining pirates alive he should do so quickly. There had been news about a pirate living in an old people’s home in Cornwall who had just reached the grand old age of 105. The journalist decided that he better get down there while he still had the chance.
He arrived and was ushered into the old salt’s room and was astonished to see the wizened figure had a wooden peg leg, a hook on one arm and a patch over one eye. The journo could not believe his luck.. here was an authentic pirate with surely plenty of stories to tell.
Having got over the initial niceties, the journalist asked the old man how he had lost his leg…
“Well, you see, it’s like this… I was only 16 years old and we were having a bit of a lark on board since we had not spotted another ship for many days.. They set up the plank and we took turns to walk as far as we could along it blindfolded.. I have to admit that I had a bit of rum in me and when it came to my turn I fell off the end.. luckily I had a rope around my waist and the lads pulled me back in sharpish like.. However, not before a shark charged in and took me leg off right above the knee.
The carpenter, who was our ship’s doctor, quick as a flash dipped my leg in boiling tar and two days later had made my peg leg.. still wear the same one today and not a problem with it”
The jounalist was duly impressed and then asked what had happened to his hand that had resulted in the hook.
“Ah well, you see it took me a while to get used to having a peg leg but I wanted to do my bit as part of the crew..so I insisted on scaling the rigging in a high wind and my peg leg slipped, my hand got caught in the rope and it took my hand right off.. But, the carpenter quick as a flash,whipped my stump into some boiling tar and in a few days had made me this hook, which is just as good today.”
“But what about your patch?” asked the journalist…thrilled with his scoop so far.
“Ah well, you see I was taking my turn in the crow’s nest and an albatross flew right over my head and shat in my eye…”
The journalist leant forward fascinated..”And that took your eye out?”
“Ah well, no…you see that was my first day with me hook!”
Thanks for dropping in.. and please feel free to pass on the fun. .thanks Sally