From TexasCook.com - January 11
stand on a trap door and announce, "I descend into hell!" A stagehand
below would then pull a rope, the trapdoor would open, and the
character would plunge through. The play was well received. When the
actor playing the part became ill, another actor who was quite
overweight took his place.
When the new actor announced, "I descend into hell!" the stagehand
pulled the rope, and the actor began his plunge, but became hopelessly
stuck. No amount of tugging on the rope could make him descend. One
student in the balcony jumped up and yelled: "Hallelujah! Hell
is full!"
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A distraught senior citizen phoned her doctor's office.
"Is it true," she wanted to know, "that the medication
you prescribed has to be taken for the rest of my life?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so," the doctor told her.
There was a moment of silence before the senior lady
replied, "I'm wondering, then just how serious is my
condition, because this prescription is marked
'NO REFILLS."
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Doug went to the eye doctor for an examination because he was
having trouble reading the newspaper. "Now that you're over
40," the doctor told him, "you've developed a condition called
'presbyopia,' in which the lens of your eye can no longer
focus as well as it used to."
Seeing his worried look, the doctor tried to be upbeat. "Con-
gratulations!" he said. "You're now officially a presbyope!"
Doug leaned over and asked seriously, "If that means I'm no
longer a Roman Catholic, do I still have to go to Confession?"
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Eight-year-old Sally brought her report card home from school.
Her marks were good...mostly A's and a couple of B's. However, her
teacher had written across the bottom:
"Sally is a smart little girl, but she has one fault. She talks too much
in school. I have an idea I am going to try, which I think may break her
of the habit."
Sally's dad signed her report card, putting a note on the back:
"Please let me know if your idea works on Sally because I would like to
try it out on her mother."
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While shopping for vacation clothes, my husband and I
passed a display of bathing suits. It had been at least
ten years and twenty pounds since I had even considered
buying a bathing suit, so I sought my husband's advice.
"What do you think?" I asked. "Should I get a bikini or an
all-in-one?"
"Better get a bikini," he replied. "You'd never get it all
in one."
(And that's the last thing he remembered)
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