Two friends of long standing met at their club. “Johnathan, old chap,” said one, looking morosely into his drink. “As your best friend I hate to tell you this but your wife is fickle.”
“Ah,” sighed Johnathan. “So she’s thrown you over too.”
There’s no place like home … after the other places close.
Father’s learning a trade … so he’ll know what kind of work he’s out of.
It was one of those family fights that took place every Saturday night right after the card game, which took place right after services. This time the feudin’, fightin’ and fussin’ was more than he thought his mother ought to, hear. “Mom,” he said. “Leave the room.”
“All right,” agreed the gentle, sensitive soul. “But please, boys, talk loud.”
Brother got the electric chair. Every year we put a wreath on the fuse box.
“How could you have a son that age?”
“I didn’t. When I had him he was just a baby.”
“I’ll never forget grandfather. He used to drink gallons of water. Then he’d sit back in his rocking chair, just sit there and slosh around all day.
“My ancestors all followed the medical profession.” “Doctors?”
“No. Undertakers.”
“Father,” said the rich man’s son, “I’m marrying an older woman. I just can’t stand those giddy young girls. There’s something more to an older woman.”
“Well, all right, son,” his father replied. “But I’m warning you. Don’t ever come to me for money to have her face lifted.”
Every spring we’d start spring cleaning by throwing out the Christmas tree.
It wasn’t ma’s fault that we kids were raised in dirt and filth. Why our place was so dirty the neighbor’s dog used to cross over the yard to bury his bone in the living-room rug.
Father was always bothered by flat feet. They kept giving him tickets for speeding.