Aug 17 2009

Dad’s Volkswagen

As long as I could remember my Dad always drove American cars, so it was a great surprise when my uncle mentioned that my Dad and his twin brother had once owned a Volkswagen Beetle–for a short time.

“They were coming around a  long curve on our gravel road. Our neighbor and his wife were pulling out of their drive. He didn’t see them, and she did, but she talked really slow.

She said, “Les, here come those boys in one of those–”


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Jun 17 2009

Timmy’s cough

Warning: this story is not for the squeamish.

My friend Timmy was driving down the road. He was also just getting over a cold, and he had to cough. When he coughed, he coughed up some phlegm. While he would have normally just spat it out the window, he hesitated, as he had just washed his car.

“I’ll just hold it in my mouth until I get to the light, then spit it out,” he thought.

But the thought of the phlegm on his tongue grossed him out and made him gag. When he gagged, he coughed again, and accidentally spat  the phlegm onto his pants. He reached down to get something to wipe his pants off, and when he did, hit the curb and blew out his tire.

The first time Jimmy told me this, I laughed so hard I could hardly walk; I even LOL’d again as I was writing this.

I don’t usually try to moralize any of the stories I post here; I just record them. However, I can think of two quotes that apply really well here. The first, from Uncle Remus (pulled completely out context):

“Big man, little man, spit where you please.”

And the second and more applicable, from Mel Brooks:

“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.”

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