Friday, April 12, 2013

FUNNY FRIDAYS

Who shot the gerbil?

The craziest thing happened last night. It was around midnight. I was asleep dreaming of a classroom full of curious, well mannered, decently dressed, and generally bright students, when all of a sudden---BANG! A shot rang out. I quickly checked my drawers to make sure I hadn't...well you know. Anyway, I pulled the blanket way over my head in terror. And waited. And waited. And waited. BANG! A second shot echoed from down the hall. Not knowing what to do I got up and ran.

I turned into the study and stopped dead in my tracks. Tears welled up in my eyes. On the floor was Wally, cold and dead. Blood oozing out of a bullet hole in his tiny little gerbil tummy. I covered him with a hanky and crept out the door scared and sad. Thinking someone was in the house, I continued to crawl down the hall, slowly and silently. I turned the corner and peered into the kitchen. OH SHIT! THE GUNS!

Floating in mid-air were my Ruger 10-22 and my Remington 1100 12ga. They bounced like they were talking and laughing. I could not understand their language but it didn't sound good. I backed away and went back down the hall and then made a right into a spare bedroom. Oh God! The closet door was open. And inside my gun safe was open. My first thought was someone had broken in and stolen my guns, but then I saw my Ruger P90 pistol bouncing around like it was doing a dance. An invisible hand must be operating it, and reloading it! I saw a magazine float out of the safe and slip into the grip, the slide moved back and forward. The distinct sound of a cartridge loading into the barrel caused the hair on my arms to stand tall.

I couldn't take it anymore. I ran! And ran! And ran! I was outside with my .45 following me. It fired but i ducked around the garage. I picked up a shovel and when the weapon came around the corner I smacked it good. It lay broken on the ground. But then rifle fire hit the side of the garage. I looked up and my trusty .30-06 was on the roof shooting--AT ME!

I ran into the garage and was about to jump into my F-250 when it too came to life. The engine roared and the tires spun. It was after me! I ran outside. By now the pruning shears and an old fish filet knife were seeking my flesh too. I ran down the road, hoping to find help.

Suddenly lights appeared. God no! Not another killer car! But the horn was kind of cute and perky. I ran to the vehicle. I looked inside. Al Gore sat in the driver's seat, his tummy rubbing against the steering wheel. In the back seat was Joe Biden on all fours with his butt held high. "What happened Uncle Joe," I asked. "My damn double barrel shot me in the ass," he said.

"Get in. We gotta get outta here," said Gore. "But Al, the cars?" I asked. "Don't worry, It's a leaf. Electric," he replied with a big cheesy grin.

The moral to the story kids is that we have to regulate the bad, evil, metal, gas, smoke spewing things man has created because they might come to life some day and kill us all. All of us innocent, decent, law abiding, never do anything wrong with inanimate objects people are not to blame for the evils around us...it's the stuff's fault.

 

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