by Lane Olinghouse

Created on: August 03, 2010   Last Updated: May 01, 2012

I ran across these in my joke file. I hope you get a chuckle or four from them.

There's Mud In Your Eye
 
An able-bodied seaman met a pirate in a dockside bar, and they took turns recounting their many adventures at sea. It wasn't long before they were on a first-name basis.

Having noted the pirate's peg-leg, hook, and eye patch the seaman finally worked up enough courage to ask about them. "So, Jerry," he said, "how did you end up with a peg-leg?"

Pausing to enjoy another long pull on his glass of grog, Jerry replied, "I'll tell ye, Raymond me lad. It happened like this. We was caught foursquare in a monster storm just off the cape and a giant wave swept me overboard. Just as my mates were pullin' me out of the water, a school of sharks appeared and one of 'em took a notion to bite me leg off."

 "Blimey!" Raymond exclaimed. "And what about the hook where your hand used to be?"

 "Ahhhh...," Jerry mused. "There we were boardin' a trader ship just out of Australia, pistols blastin' and swords swingin' this way and that. In the fracas me hand got chopped off."

 "Cripes!" said Raymond. "And how came ye by the eye patch?"

"That happened ashore," Jerry replied slowly. "A seagull droppin' fell into me eye."

 "You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?" Raymond asked incredulously.

 "Well, you see, Raymond," Jerry replied, "it was me first day with the hook ..."

Have A Cracker

An out-of-towner in New York at the height of the tourist season decided to revisit an uptown restaurant he'd enjoyed on a previous trip to the city. Finally catching the eye of an overworked waiter, he said, "You know, it's been over five years since I first came in here."

"You'll have to wait your turn, sir," replied the harried waiter. "I can only serve one table at a time."

Don't Forget Your Passport

A Texan driving through Phoenix, Arizona, recently, was stopped for speeding. The patrolman approached the driver's window and asked, "Do you have any ID?"

"'Bout what?" the Texan asked.

Garbage In, Garbage Out

When their TV went on the blink late one evening, Mrs. Jones picked up a book and commenced reading, but Mr. Jones spent the next several minutes fidgeting nervously. He untied and retied his shoes. He paced the floor. He visited the kitchen, noisily made a large sandwich and tramped back to the living room with it.

Mrs. Jones glanced up from her book in irritation. "Harold," she said, "why don't you do something useful to work off your nervousness. Take out the garbage, for instance."

"I just took out the garbage, thank you," Harold told her somewhat testily.

"So all right already," snapped Mrs. Jones. "Go keep an eye on it."

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