tell me your best joke

[Amdy_vill]

mine is. My shrink said i as mentally stable. They never heard from him again.

[Aliquid]

For me, the best jokes are completely based on timing, and need to be (or seem to be) spontaneous, based on an existing conversation. Or they need a lot of setup...

But for a short and quick joke:

"What's the last thing to go through a fly's mind when it hits your windshield?"
Its ass

[Peelee]

For me, the best jokes are completely based on timing, and need to be (or seem to be) spontaneous, based on an existing conversation. Or they need a lot of setup...

But for a short and quick joke:

"What's the last thing to go through a fly's mind when it hits your windshield?"
Its ass

Eh, that's more of a riddle. Also, I agree, the "best joke" is absolutely dependent on certain factors. The audience, IMO, is the biggest of these, really.

Anyway, one of my favorites:

A university janitor, after decades of being looked down on, snapped right as the semester ended. He was able to kidnap three professors, locked them in pantries in the university kitchen, and ran off. Weeks later, the police caught him and discovered the location of the professors. Fearing the worst, they went to retrieve the bodies.

The first door they came to was open. The detectives discovered several dented cans on the floor, the lock to the door broken, and several equations written on the wall dealing with forces, and structural integrity. "This must have been the physicist we were looking for," the first detective exclaims.

The second door they came to was likewise open. Again, the detectives discovered a broken lock, but this time there were scorch marks on it and the door, along with various shavings on the floor, and on the wall were formulas for explosive reactions. "Ah," said the second detective, "this must have been the chemist that was taken!"

Their spirits notably higher, the detectives were surprised when they came to the third door and found it still closed and locked. Upon prying it open and discovering a corpse, the third detective looked at the wall, and commented, "I hate mathematicians." "Why?" the other detectives asked, "Was there nothing written on the wall to help?" The third detective looked at them and read, "Theorem: If I do not escape, I will die. Proof: Assume the opposite."

[Tvtyrant]

So, there's a man crawling through the desert.

He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out
and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon
how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So,
he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication
later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give
him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle
in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the
direction he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's
been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and
whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the
town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things,
he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back
up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day.

He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in
his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't
find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke.

He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait
any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large
rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly
swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry
and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes
another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle.
He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to
make some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him,
it kills him - if he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty
sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills,
dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water.
Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat
stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He
knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing
donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he's getting woozy
enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers any more or if
he's hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it,
trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.

He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure any more. He's not even sure how long he's been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon - it seems like it's been too long since he started out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't
remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he
doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.

But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures
that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from
there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third
time, and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up - he'll
just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally
gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through
the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert
in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -
shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top,
he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees
is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he
sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more
dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.

Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper
fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the
cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it's dark - darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from
here. He's going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune.
After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble - he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough
energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When
he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot
in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.

So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins
to crawl towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to
have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages
of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't
have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last
chance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the
dark area. His eyes won't quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting
his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just
keeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center,
where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone
area.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark
stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun
overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying
down on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's
probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and
dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the
beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him
a drink. Then he'll know he's gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here
in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the
center before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's
hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do
not look well. Do you hear me?"

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and
knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something
different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few
seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and
tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands
and tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse
of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or
pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet
out of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and
seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long
desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and
run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his
final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to
move from this spot.

Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than
dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a
little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves
it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a
moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn't rattled yet -
that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't going to die of snake bite after all.

He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here
because he thought he'd heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was
likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was
now on cool stone. He still didn't have anything to drink. But maybe he had
actually heard a voice. This stone didn't look natural. Nor did that white
post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe
they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake
was even their pet, and that's why it wasn't biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but his throat is too dry. All
that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he's going
to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the
bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out,
almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't
good. He doesn't have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes
out.

He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips,
and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then
swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk
now.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to
spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"

He turns his head, back towards the snake. That's where the sound had seemed
to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a
speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides
to try asking for help.

"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be
thirsty any more. I've been a long time without water. Can you help me?"

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was
coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its
mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he
falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits
up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily
disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across the
sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped
around the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet.
He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder
again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes -
they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been
bitten. By the snake.

"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He
hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy any more. And more
importantly, he's not thirsty any more - at all!

"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the
afterlife?"

"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I
work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."

"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty any more? Did you give me a
drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be
thirsty any more? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for
the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk?
Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"

"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I
didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works - it's what I do. I
bite. I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just
sitting around here."

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the
desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a
snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not
great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no
longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt
hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool
stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer
dying of thirst.

"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your
system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you
drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left
in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or
two, if you drank enough of it."

"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting
shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You
get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his
own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The
second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of
responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.

"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan,
Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound
used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand
for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into
names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry
if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds
somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.

"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack
Samson.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the
poison...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that?
What do you mean by that's how you work?"

"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer
all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets
wider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need
to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not
be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make
it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at
all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to
get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert.
You've been changed.

"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the
effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal.
In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years.
Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly
amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack
could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read
talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree
to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell
you."

"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd
have to kill me?"

"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.

"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was
talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a
nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really
stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do
you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper
fluid, and just denature it?"

"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a
while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and
on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you
pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume
that they still color wiper fluid blue?"

"Yeah, they do," said Jack.

"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the
fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me,
this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you
decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me,
write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will
lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of
course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm
guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding
anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a
little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know
that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"

Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the
second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.

"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I
ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes
to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and
before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or
omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous
and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and
sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be
omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very
useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was
staring at him.

"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent
good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be
immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long
time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to
recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a
request to me."

"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a
long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request
about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not
really a change to me?"

"Right," nodded Nate.

"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"That takes two requests, Jack."

"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could
become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"

"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't
necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you
very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either.
You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some
truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It
all depends on what you decide to do with it."

"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request,
after this one?"

"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more
rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second
request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had
shoulders.

"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent
health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially.
Do I need to sign in blood or something?"

"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or
whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said,
that's how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it
didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better
about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot
snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to
be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack
tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it
wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind
him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of
nowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through
his jeans...

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have
decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to
hoodwink me like that."

"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You
humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you -
especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of
minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the
health benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now."

"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody
likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or
something instead?"

"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you
accidentally kick me or move at the last second."

"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify
to hear," answered Jack.

"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to
just start talking?"

"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."

"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,"
answered Nate.

"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up.
"What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically
whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with
excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite
it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife,
that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.

"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little
longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it
is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw.
No thanks. Just talk."

"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start
looking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued.
"You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate
sceptically.

"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up
and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark
stone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a
representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around
was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches
left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it
looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and
embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the
setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the
sky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another
night out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and
stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said
Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to
have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw
desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."

"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail
this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to
the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by
the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be
able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head
out early tomorrow, Jack."

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and
then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading
out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting
stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"

"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He
figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a
'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he
could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from
across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."

said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"

"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to
count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I
do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands
of years, at least."

"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out
of the stone there?" asked Jack.

"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much
bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember
if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But
one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do
something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've
been here ever since.

"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his
coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into
the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to
enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned
over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as
Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but
Nate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it
that way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it
'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing
voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and
grinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned
Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it
really do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought
the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why
would anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I
didn't think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it
unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human
can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now?
You'd let me end humanity?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do
you want to, Jack?"

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in
the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want
that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too,
wouldn't it?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."

"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Nate. "Any of those bound
to secrecy, that is?"

"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or
another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and
think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get
disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while.
But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at
the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of
humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this
decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are
bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's
up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed
to know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?"
protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to
try your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly
getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the
one bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to
read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried
in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months
ago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you
first told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and
then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."

"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request
you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point
that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here
and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious
again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with
his third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly,
"Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it
to me.

Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"

"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped
him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his
shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"

"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward.
Like he had a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to
face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now,
Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like
it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body
tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll
turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes,
straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there.
With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot
in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the
now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet
extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to
the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been
recently bitten.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he
thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know,
accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does
that still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that
if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.

"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull
the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a
rock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated
you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote
control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by
the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that
in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they
wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or
whatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him
off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too,
right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long.
Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat
sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in
society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start
questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He
faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and
he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he
liked the attention. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There's only
one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his
time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always
had.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone
with the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his
memories.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with
the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except
that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to
get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long
walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made
it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day,
little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert
and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with
a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV.
They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without
incident.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new
backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers.
Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world,
others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate,
and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but
that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought
a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger,
special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a
special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot
rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out
its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him
fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he
'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years,
working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile
any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps
because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote,
and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started
traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been
a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing
Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace
Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this
visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at
Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's
silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."

Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?

"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son."
Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the
dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.

"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I
assume?"

Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around
for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the
edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me
about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the
other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to
have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.

"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have
that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even
joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can
do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was
something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said,
"Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet
ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my
first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to
know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But
anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I
needed a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world,
and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've
already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave
here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about
this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would
be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another
hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself.
Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said
was, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around
the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here
and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of
old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now.
I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be
able to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And
I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so
that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

[Peelee]

So, there's a man crawling through the desert.

He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out
and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon
how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So,
he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication
later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give
him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle
in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the
direction he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's
been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and
whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the
town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things,
he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back
up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day.

He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in
his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't
find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke.

He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait
any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large
rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly
swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry
and cracked throat that he doesn't even care about the nasty taste. He takes
another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle.
He figures that since he's drinking it, he might as well drink enough to
make some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He's quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him,
it kills him - if he didn't drink it, he'd die anyway. Besides, he's pretty
sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills,
dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water.
Sometimes he'll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He's careful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He's not sure if it's fatigue, heat
stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He
knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing
donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he's getting woozy
enough and tired enough that he's not sure what he remembers any more or if
he's hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it,
trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.

He was heading for a town, wasn't he? He thinks he was. He isn't sure any more. He's not even sure how long he's been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon - it seems like it's been too long since he started out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn't
remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he
doesn't think he remembers any. This is bad.

But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures
that he'll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from
there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third
time, and falls to his knees. He doesn't feel like getting back up - he'll
just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren't so dry, he'd laugh. He's finally
gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through
the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert
in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -
shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they'd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he's at the top,
he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees
is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he
sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more
dunes, more sand. This isn't where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.

Again, he doesn't know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper
fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the
cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It's a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it's dark - darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can't tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from
here. He's going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune.
After a few steps, he realizes that he's in trouble - he's not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he's caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough
energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When
he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot
in the sand it still there and he hadn't just imagined it.

So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins
to crawl towards it. He'd get up and walk towards it, but he doesn't seem to
have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages
of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn't
have water, he'll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last
chance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can't see what's in the middle of the
dark area. His eyes won't quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting
his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just
keeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he'd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he's no longer on sand - he's now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it - a pattern cut into the stone. He's too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center,
where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone
area.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark
stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun
overhead, doesn't seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying
down on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He's
probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and
dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the
beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him
a drink. Then he'll know he's gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he's going to die here
in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what's in the
center before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It's the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he's
hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler. You do
not look well. Do you hear me?"

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and
knees, but it's too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something
different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few
seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and
tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands
and tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He's sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse
of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or
pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet
out of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and
seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long
desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn't have the energy to get up and
run away. He doesn't even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his
final resting place. No matter what happens, he's not going to be able to
move from this spot.

Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than
dying of thirst. He'll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a
little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves
it in the snake's direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a
moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn't rattled yet -
that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't going to die of snake bite after all.

He then remembers that he'd looked up when he'd reached the center here
because he thought he'd heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was
likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was
now on cool stone. He still didn't have anything to drink. But maybe he had
actually heard a voice. This stone didn't look natural. Nor did that white
post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe
they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake
was even their pet, and that's why it wasn't biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but his throat is too dry. All
that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he's going
to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the
bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out,
almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn't
good. He doesn't have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes
out.

He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips,
and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then
swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk
now.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to
spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"

He turns his head, back towards the snake. That's where the sound had seemed
to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a
speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides
to try asking for help.

"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I'd love to not be
thirsty any more. I've been a long time without water. Can you help me?"

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was
coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its
mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he
falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits
up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He's momentarily
disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across the
sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped
around the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet.
He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder
again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes -
they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been
bitten. By the snake.

"It'll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it's the snake talking. He
hadn't dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he's not dizzy any more. And more
importantly, he's not thirsty any more - at all!

"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the
afterlife?"

"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That's the way I
work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."

"You bit me to help me? Why aren't I thirsty any more? Did you give me a
drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be
thirsty any more? I haven't had a drink for over two days. Well, except for
the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake talk?
Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"

"No," says the snake, "I'm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I
didn't give you a drink. I bit you. That's how it works - it's what I do. I
bite. I don't have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just
sitting around here."

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the
desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn't, talking to a
snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not
great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no
longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt
hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool
stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer
dying of thirst.

"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your
system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you
drank it, but I'm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left
in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It'll make you go blind in a day or
two, if you drank enough of it."

"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting
shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

"That's the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake. "You
get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned at his
own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free. The
second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of
responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.

"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan,
Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound
used to just call me 'Snake'. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn't stand
for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into
names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned. "Sorry
if I don't offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds
somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.

"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this. "Jack
Samson.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the
poison...umm, in your bite. Why aren't I dying now? How did you do that?
What do you mean by that's how you work?"

"That's more than one question," grins Nate. "But I'll still try to answer
all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake's grin gets
wider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need
to drink. That's what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not
be thirsty any more - but 'any more' is such a vague term. I decided to make
it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn't need to drink much at
all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to
get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert.
You've been changed.

"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides the
effects of that methanol in your system, you're a man - and men are mortal.
In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years.
Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly
amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack
could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read
talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to agree
to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can't tell
you."

"Wait," joked Jack, "isn't this where you say you could tell me, but you'd
have to kill me?"

"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.

"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was
talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a
nasty temper. "So, what is this 'Bound by Secrecy' stuff, and can you really
stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And, what do
you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper
fluid, and just denature it?"

"They may, I don't really know," said Nate. "I haven't gotten out in a
while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and
on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you
pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume
that they still color wiper fluid blue?"

"Yeah, they do," said Jack.

"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the
fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me,
this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you
decide to go back out to your kind. You won't be allowed to talk about me,
write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will
lead someone to guess correctly about me. You'll be bound to secrecy. Of
course, I'll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I'm
guessing that you're a man of your word, you'll never test the binding
anyway, so you won't notice." Nate said the last part with utter confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a
little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know
that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"

Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can't tell you that, unless you make the
second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.

"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What can I
ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You're allowed to ask for changes. Changes
to yourself. They're like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and
before you ask, I can't give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or
omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous
and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and
sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn't be
omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very
useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was
staring at him.

"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I'd probably suggest giving you permanent
good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you'd be
immune to most poisons and diseases, and you'd tend to live a very long
time, barring accident, of course. And you'll even have a tendency to
recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a
request to me."

"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for a
long time? Hmmm. It doesn't sound bad at that. And it has to be a request
about a change to me? I can't ask to be rich, right? Because that's not
really a change to me?"

"Right," nodded Nate.

"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"That takes two requests, Jack."

"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I could
become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"

"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn't
necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you
very athletic, but it wouldn't necessarily make you the best athlete either.
You've heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there's some
truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can't make you work hard. It
all depends on what you decide to do with it."

"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request,
after this one?"

"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more
rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second
request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he'd shrug, if he had
shoulders.

"Ok, well, since I'd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent
health doesn't sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially.
Do I need to sign in blood or something?"

"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or
whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said,
that's how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it
didn't hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better
about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot
snake sunk it's fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to
be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack
tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it
wouldn't hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn't going to be easy.

"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind
him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of
nowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through
his jeans...

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have
decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn't have to
hoodwink me like that."

"I've been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You
humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you -
especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it's only been a couple of
minutes and it already doesn't hurt any more, does it? That's because of the
health benefit with this one. I told you that you'd heal quickly now."

"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it's the principle of the thing. And nobody
likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn't you have gotten my calf or
something instead?"

"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance you
accidentally kick me or move at the last second."

"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify
to hear," answered Jack.

"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to
just start talking?"

"Just talk," said Jack. "I'll sit here and try to not think about food."

"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,"
answered Nate.

"Hey! You didn't tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped up.
"What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically
whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting with
excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite
it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife,
that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.

"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I'll pass. I can last a little
longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it
is you find out here. And there's nothing to burn - I'd have to eat it raw.
No thanks. Just talk."

"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I'd better hurry, before you start
looking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued.
"You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate
sceptically.

"Well, that's the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate. "Stand up
and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark
stone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a
representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around
was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches
left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it
looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and
embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the
setting sun. He wished he'd looked at it while the sun was higher in the
sky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another
night out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and
stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said
Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I'm eventually going to
have to head back - I'm not sure I'll be able to survive by eating raw
desert critters for long. And even if I can, I'm not sure I'll want to."

"It's about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail
this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to
the way he'd been going when he was crawling here. "But that's 30 miles by
the way the crow flies. It's about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be
able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head
out early tomorrow, Jack."

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and
then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading
out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting
stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"

"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said Nate. "He
figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a
'tree', offering 'temptations', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he
could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from
across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."

said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"

"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me to
count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I
do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it's been thousands
of years, at least."

"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out
of the stone there?" asked Jack.

"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much
bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don't remember
if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But
one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do
something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I've
been here ever since.

"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate loosened his
coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into
the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to
enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned
over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as
Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but
Nate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can't touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven't explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You'd push it
that way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that's what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it
'The Lever of Doom'." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing
voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and
grinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate's pronouncement, but when Nate grinned
Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it
really do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just thought
the voice I used was funny, didn't you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for? Why
would anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it's here. I
didn't think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can't tell anybody about it or let them touch it
unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human
can be bound in that way at a time. That's it." explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now?
You'd let me end humanity?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully. "Do
you want to, Jack?"

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. "Why in
the world would anyone want to end humanity? It'd take a psychotic to want
that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too,
wouldn't it?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he'd be human too."

"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Nate. "Any of those bound
to secrecy, that is?"

"Well, of course, I think they've all seriously considered it at one time or
another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and
think, or so I'm told. Samuel considered it several times. He'd often get
disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while.
But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn't be here." Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at
the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of
humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make this
decision? Am I supposed to decide if they're good? Or too many of them are
bad? Or that they're going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It's
up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you're just supposed
to know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Couldn't I make a mistake? How do I know that I won't screw up?"
protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don't. You just have to
try your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly
getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel the
one bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to
read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried
in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months
ago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you
first told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and
then asked me some questions, much like you're doing."

"What did he ask you, if you're allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack's turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request
you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point
that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you'll come here
and end it. You won't avoid it, and you won't wimp out." Nate looked serious
again. "And you'll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for with
his third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly,
"Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give it
to me.

Nate looked at Jack's backside. "Give you what, Jack?"

"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped
him, maybe it'll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over his
shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"

"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter afterward.
Like he had a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack turned to
face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now,
Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

"You remember that you'll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like
it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body
tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate's voice.

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that you'll
turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes,
straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn't see Nate there.
With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot
in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate's "Just Kidding!" right before he felt the
now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet
extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to
the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he'd been
recently bitten.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he
thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know,
accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does
that still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it does, Jack. I'd suggest you be careful about that
if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked Jack.

"That's the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull
the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a
rock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I'm not sure how complicated
you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote
control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he'd build would be gone by
the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that
in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they
wouldn't be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or
whatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him
off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too,
right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That's almost 140 more years I'll live if I live as long.
Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat
sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn't going to be able to stay in
society. He figured that they'd eventually see him still alive and start
questioning it, so he decided that he'd have to disappear after a while. He
faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and
he could stay for a little longer. He wasn't very fond of mankind, but he
liked the attention. A few months ago he told me he'd had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There's only
one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was his
time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always
had.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel's body disappeared off the stone
with the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his
memories.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with
the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except
that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn't willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to
get back, and reassuring Nate that he'd be back soon, Jack started the long
walk back to town. With his new health and Nate's good directions, he made
it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day,
little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert
and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with
a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV.
They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without
incident.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new
backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers.
Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world,
others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate,
and then headed out again, telling Nate that he'd be back again soon, but
that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought
a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger,
special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a
special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot
rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out
its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him
fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he
'd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years,
working in a nine to five job for someone else didn't seem that worthwhile
any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps
because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote,
and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started
traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been
a fountain of joy lately. Jack's best guess was that Nate was still missing
Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn't been able to replace
Samuel in Nate's eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this
visit Nate didn't even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at
Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate's
silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you to."

Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big Guy?

"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my son."
Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the
dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.

"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I
assume?"

Nate nodded. "Jack, I've got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around
for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the
edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told me
about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the
other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to
have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.

"He's seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it's not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have
that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn't even
joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I can
do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was
something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said,
"Oh, yeah. Ummm, I've gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet
ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this is my
first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don't even want to
know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But
anyway, I had a son for a reason. I'm tired. I'm ready for it to be over. I
needed a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you're ready to come see the world,
and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you're a better guesser than that. You've
already figured out - I'm bound here - there's only one way for me to leave
here. And I'm ready. It's my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about
this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would
be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another
hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself.
Jack could understand Samuel's decision, and now Nate's. So, all Jack said
was, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around
the world - let him get his fill of it, until he's ready to come back here
and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can't just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won't even die of
old age like you eventually will, even though it'll be a long time from now.
I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I'll be
able to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I've even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won't work on me. And
I've seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so
that's out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.


Missing a punchline, I take it?

[Tvtyrant]

Missing a punchline, I take it?
I ran out of characters and phone editing posts takes forever. I'll post the rest tonight.

[Peelee]

Makes sense. I fully expect it to be an anti-joke. Nothing with a quality punchline is that long.

[AuthorGirl]

Am I allowed to make a joke that references religion?

[Anarion]

The punchline to TVTyrant's joke is
Better Nate than lever.

It's a classic because the pun is awful and the setup is so long.

[Tvtyrant]

The punchline to TVTyrant's joke is
Better Nate than lever.

It's a classic because the pun is awful and the setup is so long.

Well actually...

It is the aristocrats!

[Peelee]

The punchline to TVTyrant's joke is
Better Nate than lever.

It's a classic because the pun is awful and the setup is so long.


Well actually...

It is the aristocrats!

I don't know which one is better.

[Anarion]

Well actually...

It is the aristocrats!

Well played, well played indeed.

Also here's my favorite.

A pet owner found their dog lying down and couldn't get a response from the dog at all, so he took the dog to the vet. The vet took a look at the dog. Did some tests, a little poking and prodding. Then he went into another room and brought out a little black and white cat, which he placed on the table with the dog. The cat walks around, pokes at the dog a little, and then lies down, and the vet takes it away. The vet then says to the man, "sir, I'm sorry to tell you, but your dog isn't going to make it." Then he hands the man a bill for his services. It's shockingly high, for $1020. The man turns back to the vet and says "why is this bill so high?" The vet turns and responds: "Oh, well, it's $20 for the check up and $1000 for the cat scan."

[2D8HP]

Best?

In its entirety?

Yeah that's hella not gonna to happen, since most of the jokes I remember I heard on construction sites.

I'll make do with some punchlines:

"Haaay"

"TA-DA!"

You think I asked the genie for a ten-inch bic"?

"Oh, they all did"

"It's just that I saw my wife go by on a skateboard"

"I'm afraid that the dog may bite me"

[Peelee]

You think I asked the genie for a ten-inch bic"?
Funny, I always heard that one with a ten inch pianist instead.

[JeenLeen]

My 3-year-old's best joke is saying strange combinations of nonsensical things like "How about banana moose?"
Unfortunately, jokes aren't my strong point and she's mostly inherited my sense of humor.

Most of the stuff I find really funny is context-dependent and thus not really a joke, but the oddness of a statement in contrast to something. I think one of my favorite is when I exclaimed during the final confrontation of a Mage game, as we TPKed, "I told you my wife was evil. But, no, none of you believed the insane guy." I had a Akashi who had his mind rewrote so many times he wasn't sure what was true or false, and his wife was a Nephandi spy. I (IC and OOC) suspected it, but the others (IC and OOC) thought it was unlikely, so we had her come as a healbot for the big fight. After we defeated an archmaster (Voormas), she killed the surviving members of the party. (So, that became the final confrontation. I think the real final confrontation was meant to be the next fight, likely against her and her master.)


Well actually...

It is the aristocrats!

I know they say explaining the joke ruins it, but could you explain how that's the punchline? I get the punchline Anarion posted (and found it hilarious in contrast to the setup.)

[Tvtyrant]

My 3-year-old's best joke is saying strange combinations of nonsensical things like "How about banana moose?"
Unfortunately, jokes aren't my strong point and she's mostly inherited my sense of humor.

Most of the stuff I find really funny is context-dependent and thus not really a joke, but the oddness of a statement in contrast to something. I think one of my favorite is when I exclaimed during the final confrontation of a Mage game, as we TPKed, "I told you my wife was evil. But, no, none of you believed the insane guy." I had a Akashi who had his mind rewrote so many times he wasn't sure what was true or false, and his wife was a Nephandi spy. I (IC and OOC) suspected it, but the others (IC and OOC) thought it was unlikely, so we had her come as a healbot for the big fight. After we defeated an archmaster (Voormas), she killed the surviving members of the party. (So, that became the final confrontation. I think the real final confrontation was meant to be the next fight, likely against her and her master.)



I know they say explaining the joke ruins it, but could you explain how that's the punchline? I get the punchline Anarion posted (and found it hilarious in contrast to the setup.)
It is something of a metajoke. There was a very old joke where a family are auditioning to do a show (I believe originally for vaudville) and they begin to do all sorts of horrible acts that the comedian telling the show would elaborate on to the disgust of the audience. At the end of it the stage owner asks "what do you call a show like that??" To which they respond "the aristocrats!"

The reason it is funny in this context is that it is clearly the wrong punchline, and acknowledges a connection between the people in the thread who know both jokes.

[Peelee]

It is something of a metajoke. There was a very old joke where a family are auditioning to do a show (I believe originally for vaudville) and they begin to do all sorts of horrible acts that the comedian telling the show would elaborate on to the disgust of the audience. At the end of it the stage owner asks "what do you call a show like that??" To which they respond "the aristocrats!"

Just to add, the joke is known specifically for being incredibly offensive, so often when someone tells the joke, they try to make the acts themselves as outlandish and horrific as possible. There's a documentary based around the joke, where Bob Saget arguably has the best version (and he didn't even get to finish it). Also, Trey Parker and Matt Stone made a version with the South Park kids that was pretty funny (it had extra help from Cartman awkwardly chuckling, one of the others saying "I don't get it," and then Cartman saying "yeah me either." Which was even funnier, since Cartman was the one who told it).

But yeah, it's a famous for being outlandishly offensive.

[darkrose50]

Out of all of my friends, this is my favorite story (it is funny and a true story).

My friend Sam is a first generation American Indian (from India), and he visited his cousins in India.

Cousin: It gets hot at night, so we sleep on the roof.

Sam: Okay

Cousin: Here is your stick.

Sam: What is the stick for?

Cousin: To beat off the monkeys.

Sam: I’m not hitting any money with a stick.

Cousin: Yes you will . . ..

[Anonymouswizard]

The punchline to TVTyrant's joke is
Better Nate than lever.

It's a classic because the pun is awful and the setup is so long.

But... but... lever is not pronounced that way! It's a double e sound in the first syllable!

I'll share a better joke here when I remember it, but for now...

A man walks into a library, goes up to the receptionist, and asks 'can I have some fish and chips please.'

The receptionist looks at him aghast. 'Sir, this is a library.'

'Oh, sorry' the man says.

[in a whisper]'Can I have some fish and chips please.'[/whisper]

[Peelee]

But... but... lever is not pronounced that way! It's a double e sound in the first syllable!

Not in FreedomLand, at least. Perfect rhyme.

[Silverraptor]

I am full of jokes. I'll start off with a short one for now.

A couple of guys are hiking in the mountains, talking and having a good time. Then one of them needs to go to the bathroom, so he steps off the trail to relieve himself while his friend waits on the trail. Then his friend hears him yell out in pain and asks if the guy is alright.

Guy: "No! I just got bitten by a snake!"

Friend: "Oh my god! Where did you get bit?"

Guy: "In the place where the sun don't shine!"

Friend: "Hang on let me call a doctor for help!"

*Calls doctor with cell phone*

Doctor: "Hello?"

Friend: "Help! My friend just got bitten by a snake!"

Doctor: "Oh that's serious. If it's been very recent since he got bit, the best thing to do is to wrap your mouth around the wound and suck the venom out."

Friend: "Oh, okay. Thanks Doctor."

*Hangs up*

Guy: "What did the Doctor say?"

Friend: "He says you're going to die."

[ve4grm]

Just to add, the joke is known specifically for being incredibly offensive, so often when someone tells the joke, they try to make the acts themselves as outlandish and horrific as possible. There's a documentary based around the joke, where Bob Saget arguably has the best version (and he didn't even get to finish it). Also, Trey Parker and Matt Stone made a version with the South Park kids that was pretty funny (it had extra help from Cartman awkwardly chuckling, one of the others saying "I don't get it," and then Cartman saying "yeah me either." Which was even funnier, since Cartman was the one who told it).

But yeah, it's a famous for being outlandishly offensive.

It's also a joke that never actually gets told on stage. It's told between comedians, and is more of an exercise to practice delivery and keeping a straight face while saying all of these awful things.

The documentary is amazing, in an inside-baseball, peel-back-the-curtain sort of way.

[Peelee]

It's also a joke that never actually gets told on stage.

Well, Gilbert Gottfried... Yes, I know.

[Bastian Weaver]

Man walks into a store, and he asks, "Is it true that people can buy anything in here?"
And the vendor says "Yes, we've got everything, and our prices are very modest!"
The man says, "Thank goodness. I need a pair of glass trousers, size L".
The vendor says, "Sorry, I can't help you here".
"But why?! You said I can buy anything!"
"Yes, but you can only buy real stuff. Glass trousers are not real".
"But I need them really badly!"
"I'm sorry, sir. Would you like to buy anything else?"
The man walks away, and in half an hour, he comes back, wearing a pair of rather old-looking glass trousers.
"Well?!" he says.
The vendor looks at him and says, "Oh dear, I thought you were just stupid, but you're actually crazy!"

[Elanasaurus]

The vendor looks at him and says, "Oh dear, I thought you were just stupid, but you're actually crazy!"I don't get it. Could you please ruin the joke by explaining it for me?

[Strigon]

Eh, that's more of a riddle. Also, I agree, the "best joke" is absolutely dependent on certain factors. The audience, IMO, is the biggest of these, really.

Anyway, one of my favorites:

A university janitor, after decades of being looked down on, snapped right as the semester ended. He was able to kidnap three professors, locked them in pantries in the university kitchen, and ran off. Weeks later, the police caught him and discovered the location of the professors. Fearing the worst, they went to retrieve the bodies.

The first door they came to was open. The detectives discovered several dented cans on the floor, the lock to the door broken, and several equations written on the wall dealing with forces, and structural integrity. "This must have been the physicist we were looking for," the first detective exclaims.

The second door they came to was likewise open. Again, the detectives discovered a broken lock, but this time there were scorch marks on it and the door, along with various shavings on the floor, and on the wall were formulas for explosive reactions. "Ah," said the second detective, "this must have been the chemist that was taken!"

Their spirits notably higher, the detectives were surprised when they came to the third door and found it still closed and locked. Upon prying it open and discovering a corpse, the third detective looked at the wall, and commented, "I hate mathematicians." "Why?" the other detectives asked, "Was there nothing written on the wall to help?" The third detective looked at them and read, "Theorem: If I do not escape, I will die. Proof: Assume the opposite."

That reminds me of one of my favourites:
An engineer, a physicist, and a mathematician all work in labs in the same building.
One day, there's an electrical problem, and all their labs catch fire.
The engineer takes a fire extinguisher, and covers the entire lab - even the sections that weren't burning. He caused thousands of dollars of damage, but the lab is now entirely fireproof.
The physicist takes some samples of the lab's carpet, and uses an infrared thermometer to measure the intensity of the fire. Then he begins his calculations. He eventually pours exactly the right amount of water on the fire to put it out, but because of the delay his lab was damaged.

The mathematician takes out a match, strikes it, and blows it out. Satisfied that his problem does have a solution, he goes about his day.

[Peelee]

That reminds me of one of my favourites:
An engineer, a physicist, and a mathematician all work in labs in the same building.
One day, there's an electrical problem, and all their labs catch fire.
The engineer takes a fire extinguisher, and covers the entire lab - even the sections that weren't burning. He caused thousands of dollars of damage, but the lab is now entirely fireproof.
The physicist takes some samples of the lab's carpet, and uses an infrared thermometer to measure the intensity of the fire. Then he begins his calculations. He eventually pours exactly the right amount of water on the fire to put it out, but because of the delay his lab was damaged.

The mathematician takes out a match, strikes it, and blows it out. Satisfied that his problem does have a solution, he goes about his day.

Some other favorites of mine:

A physicist, a biologist and a mathematician sit in a sidewalk cafe, looking at the building across the road. Two people go into the building, then three people come out.

The physicist claimed, "this must be a measuring error." The biologist replied, "no, this is proof of procreation." The mathematician looked at them and said "you're both wrong; if one more person goes into the building, it will be empty!"


A farmer asked three of his friends , anengineer, a physicist and a mathematician, to help with a problem. He wanted to build a fence around a flock of sheep, but he was short on cash, and wanted to use as little material as possible.

The physicist said to just build a fence with an infinite diameter and pull it together until it fits around the flock. The engineer told him to save material by forming the flock into a circular shape and construct a fence around it. The mathematian told the farmer to save even more time and money, and just build a fence around himself and define himself as being outside.


A physicist, engineer and a statistician went hunting one day. After a while, they saw a deer off in the distance. The physicist performed ballistic calculations, lifted his rifle to a specific angle, and shot. The bullet hit 5 yards to the right of the deer. The engineer accounted for wind, lifted his rifle slightly, and also shot. The bullet landed 5 yards to the left. Seeing both the misses, the statistician dropped his gun and yelled, "we got him!"

[Silverraptor]

Here's a joke Ronald Regan used. He even told it to Gorbachev and he laughed.

An American and Russian are sitting on a bench talking. The American proclaims:

American: "Boy. We have such a good system here. If we're ever unhappy, I can go to the White House, march up to Regan, bang my fist on his desk and tell him he's doing a bad job."

Russian: "Oh yeah. We can do that too."

*American blinks stunned*

American: "Y-You can?"

Russian: "Oh yeah. I can go to the Kremlin, march up to Gorbachev, bang my fist on his desk and tell him Ronald Regan is doing a bad job."

[AuthorGirl]

Here's a joke Ronald Regan used. He even told it to Gorbachev and he laughed.

An American and Russian are sitting on a bench talking. The American proclaims:

American: "Boy. We have such a good system here. If we're ever unhappy, I can go to the White House, march up to Regan, bang my fist on his desk and tell him he's doing a bad job."

Russian: "Oh yeah. We can do that too."

*American blinks stunned*

American: "Y-You can?"

Russian: "Oh yeah. I can go to the Kremlin, march up to Gorbachev, bang my fist on his desk and tell him Ronald Regan is doing a bad job."

I like. I like it a lot.

[Bastian Weaver]

I don't get it. Could you please ruin the joke by explaining it for me?

It's funny, because... um... well. People protect themselves from harsh, cruel reality by pretending it's not out there, and, well, if someone points out that life is not quite as simple, they call that someone stupid... and if that someone proves the point, people call him crazy. Or something. I guess.
... I just want a pair of glass trousers, frankly. They're awesome.

[caden_varn]

A man is traveling in a hot air balloon when he drifts into a thick fog bank. He decides to drop lower to try to get his bearings. After a while, he finds himself floating over a field. Shortly thereafter he sees a man walking over the field towards him.
'Excuse me', he says, 'Could you tell me where I am?'
'Of course' the other man replies, 'You are in a hot air balloon, about 5 foot above the ground.'
The balloonist is a bit annoyed by this and says, 'Would I be right in guessing you work in IT?'
'Yes, that is correct. How did you know?'
'Well, everything you just told me is technically correct, but it is no help to anyone!'.

The other man, also annoyed, replies, 'Let me guess: do you work in management by any chance?'
'Yes, I am. How did you guess?' says the balloonist.
'You don't know where you are, you don't know where you're going, you've only just met me, but now it's my fault!'

[Peelee]

A man is traveling in a hot air balloon when he drifts into a thick fog bank. He decides to drop lower to try to get his bearings. After a while, he finds himself floating over a field. Shortly thereafter he sees a man walking over the field towards him.
'Excuse me', he says, 'Could you tell me where I am?'
'Of course' the other man replies, 'You are in a hot air balloon, about 5 foot above the ground.'
The balloonist is a bit annoyed by this and says, 'Would I be right in guessing you work in IT?'
'Yes, that is correct. How did you know?'
'Well, everything you just told me is technically correct, but it is no help to anyone!'.

The other man, also annoyed, replies, 'Let me guess: do you work in management by any chance?'
'Yes, I am. How did you guess?' says the balloonist.
'You don't know where you are, you don't know where you're going, you've only just met me, but now it's my fault!'

I'm always annoyed by that joke, because there manager never actually puts any blame on the engineer.

[ve4grm]

Well, Gilbert Gottfried... Yes, I know.

Really?

Well if anybody would tell a joke explicitly meant to not be funny...

[Peelee]

Really?

Well if anybody would tell a joke explicitly meant to not be funny...

Oh, you aren't familiar with it? Oh, man. There's actually a story behind it.

So, it's the Friar's Club roast of Hugh Hefner. It's September 29, 2001. Gilbert Gottfried tells a 9/11 joke. The crowd is... unappreciative. Gottfried figuring that he'd already lost the room and may as well go for broke, foregoes his followup and breaks out the Aristocrats, which manages to win him the room back. It was kind of impressive, in its own way.

[Elanasaurus]

It's funny, because... um... well. People protect themselves from harsh, cruel reality by pretending it's not out there, and, well, if someone points out that life is not quite as simple, they call that someone stupid... and if that someone proves the point, people call him crazy. Or something. I guess.
... I just want a pair of glass trousers, frankly. They're awesome.Oh, now I get it! Though it's not as funny after someone asks for it to be explained:frown:
I want a pair, too!
:elan:

[JeenLeen]

This is one a professor of mine told me. I'm paraphrasing and probably have the college names wrong, but here it is:

Nothing's better than a Harvard education.
A high school diploma's better than nothing.
Therefore, a high school diploma is better than a Harvard education.


I think he said it was on the bathroom of his Ivy league school, insulting another one.
...and I think something else was in place of "high school education", but I reckon this captures the spirit of the joke.

[WarKitty]

This is one a professor of mine told me. I'm paraphrasing and probably have the college names wrong, but here it is:

Nothing's better than a Harvard education.
A high school diploma's better than nothing.
Therefore, a high school diploma is better than a Harvard education.


I think he said it was on the bathroom of his Ivy league school, insulting another one.
...and I think something else was in place of "high school education", but I reckon this captures the spirit of the joke.

Yeah, our version definitely involved sex.

I think our professor used it because saying "sex" in front of the class meant everyone was suddenly paying attention. (Although he used it in the upper level classes too, and we were already paying attention.)

[Scarlet Knight]

One of my old favorites:

I went to my doctor for a checkup. I was put in one of those backless gowns and waited. In a few minutes the doctor came in.

"Hello Mr. Molfetta, let's begin the exam. Walk over to the window...very good. Now face me. Your doing fine. Now bend over, touch your toes and hold that position. Good, a little longer... fine, now straighten up and walk back here."

When the exam was completed I asked the doctor, "Doc, I gotta' ax you, did you have me walk to the window and bend over? If the light's better dere, why did you watch me from over here?"

"Oh, that," smiled the doctor, "I just hate my neighbor."

[AuthorGirl]

So, I was walking along a bridge, and I saw a young man about to jump off the side of it. I yelled at him, "Stop! Please don't jump."

"Why?" he asked. "No one loves me."

"God loves you," I said. "Do you believe in God?"

"Yes," he said.

"That's great!" I told him. "Are you Christian?"

"Yes."

"Me too! Protestant?"

"You bet."

"Me too! Baptist?"

"Yes."

"Same here! Northern Baptist?"

"That's right!" He was starting to cheer up at that point. "Are you a Northern Baptist or a Southern Baptist?"

"Northern," I said. "Are you Conservative or Liberal?"

"Conservative."

"Same! Northern Conservative Baptist Great Lakes Region, or Northern Conservative Baptist Eastern Region?"

"Eastern Region."

"Awesome! Council of 1879, or Council of 1912?"

"Council of 1912," he told me.

So I said, "DIE, HERETIC!" and I pushed him over :biggrin:

[Bohandas]

At he hospital a man asks the doctor about his wife's condition. The doctor answers, "I'm afraid it's the big C.....It fell off the sign at Costco and hit your wife in the head"

[Bohandas]

Now somebody mentioned the Aristocrats joke a while back, and the way I like to tell it is after the traditional non-punchline the producer replies matter of factly that it's already been done on Jackass or Viva La Bam

[Bohandas]

Some other favorites of mine:

A physicist, a biologist and a mathematician sit in a sidewalk cafe, looking at the building across the road. Two people go into the building, then three people come out.

The physicist claimed, "this must be a measuring error." The biologist replied, "no, this is proof of procreation." The mathematician looked at them and said "you're both wrong; if one more person goes into the building, it will be empty!"


A farmer asked three of his friends , anengineer, a physicist and a mathematician, to help with a problem. He wanted to build a fence around a flock of sheep, but he was short on cash, and wanted to use as little material as possible.

The physicist said to just build a fence with an infinite diameter and pull it together until it fits around the flock. The engineer told him to save material by forming the flock into a circular shape and construct a fence around it. The mathematian told the farmer to save even more time and money, and just build a fence around himself and define himself as being outside.


A physicist, engineer and a statistician went hunting one day. After a while, they saw a deer off in the distance. The physicist performed ballistic calculations, lifted his rifle to a specific angle, and shot. The bullet hit 5 yards to the right of the deer. The engineer accounted for wind, lifted his rifle slightly, and also shot. The bullet landed 5 yards to the left. Seeing both the misses, the statistician dropped his gun and yelled, "we got him!"


A physicist, a chemist, and an economist are stranded on a desert island. A crate of canned food washes up on shore but they have no way to open it. The physicist and the chemist each devise an ingenious but complicated mechanisms for getting the can open and the economist says "Why don't we just assume we have a can opener!"


A farmer has a problem where his cows keep injuring themselves so he goes to a nearby university and offers a reward to anybody who can solve the problem. A few days later a physics professor comes to him to claim the prize saying "I have a solution, although it only works for spherical cows in a weightless environment"

[Elanasaurus]

At he hospital a man asks the doctor about his wife's condition. The doctor answers, "I'm afraid it's the big C.....It fell off the sign at Costco and hit your wife in the head"I like this one.
Could you please not triplepost? One would do fine and be much neater.
:elan:

[romanwas]

:smallbiggrin::smallbiggrin::smallbiggrin::smallbi ggrin::smallbiggrin::smallbiggrin:

[Bohandas]

I don't get it. Could you please ruin the joke by explaining it for me?

The vendor was proven wrong but instead of admitting it draws attention to one of the other man's faults to direct attention away from himself (and the other guy IS crazy; if you don't think he is retell the joke with a tin hat instead of glass pants)

It's similar to another old saw

An American is talking to a man from an unstable third world nation
The American asks "How often are elections in your country?"
The foreign man replies "Oh yeah!? Well at least OUR government doesn't randomly kill black people"

[Bernardrichii]

Can a kangaroo jump higher than a house?
-
Of course, a house doesn’t jump at all.

[Bastian Weaver]

My favorite from Quest for Glory.

What style is Baba Yaga's handwriting?
She uses cursive!

[Peelee]

Come to think of it, actually, my favorite joke was Agent Carl Hanratty's in Catch Me If You Can. It was hilarious entirely due to the developed personalities and Hanratty's delivery, but that gets me every time. It's a small scene, but Hanks knocked it out of the park.

[Aliquid]

An elephant and a hippopotamus were taking a bath. The elephant said to the hippo, 'Please pass the soap.' The hippo replied, 'No soap, radio'.

[Delta]

I'm not sure I can do the best joke I've ever told (judging from the listeners reaction at the very least) justice in written form, I think the right performance makes up a lot of it but I'll try (many will probably know the joke in one version or another)

It's a rather long one...


So St. Peter is sitting at the gates of heaven, checking everyone who has died and is coming up. One day, three guys arrive...

St. Peter goes: "Sorry guys, there's been some administrative mix-up in the system, I need to check the stories of how you died before I can let you in, standard procedure, you know?"

The first guy in line is just your average Joe, looking completely miserable, he comes forward, takes a deep breath and sighs.

"I work a miserable office job in New York City with horrible hours. My day was brutal, my boss was constantly shouting at me for things that weren't my fault, my coworkers were ribbing me and making jokes behind my back, I have a mortgage on my apartment and the payments are crushing me. Finally, my boss tells me to go home and not come in on Monday, so yeah, not exactly having the best day you know?

So when I get out, it's pouring outside, but when I get in my car, the wiper's broken, the only way I can get home is by putting my head outside the driver's window and drive like that, I and half of my cars interior got completely soaked.

I somehow manage to get home, I live in an apartment on the 21st floor and of course, the elevator just so happens to be out of order. So after walking up more than 20 flights of stairs, soaking wet, having no idea how to pay next month's rent, I finally arrive at my apartment to hear the sound of my wife moaning inside. I gotta admit, in that moment, something just snapped inside me, I kicked in the door, shouted something angry and stormed into the bedroom. My wife's there, naked as the day she was born and it was obvious she had been busy only moments before, but no sign of anyone else. I ran around, looking under the bed, in the closet, until I saw something on the balcony: Someone was hanging at the edge of the balcony, trying to hide there! I'm not proud of it, but I ran out and stepped on his fingers, but can you believe it, the guy hung on? Crazy as I was, I looked for the heaviest thing I could find and dropped a big potted plant on his hands when he finally let go and dropped!

I looked down and saw, 20 floors down, the guy actually landed in a trash container and he was still alive! I have no idea what came over me, my heart was pounding like crazy, so I ran into the kitchen, picked up my fridge and dropped it over the balcony, crushing the guy below. And I guess that's when I noticed my chest was hurting like crazy and I couldn't breathe, fell down and died of a heart attack."

St. Peter stares at the guy. "Oh wow... I mean... just wow... I guess we'll have to look at that in more detail, go in and report to the office on your right..."

He moves on to the next guy, a tall, fit guy with long hair who looks rather confused.

"Well, I'm a yoga instructor, I live in New York City, I was out on my balcony on the 22nd floor, it was pouring outside but I've done my exercises out there for over a decade, rain or shine, so I thought nothing of it. But during a complicated exercise, I did slip and go over the railing. I thought I was dead, but my reflexes saved my, I managed to grab onto the ledge of the balcony below mine. Of course, I was up there, everyone below had umbrellas or hoods on, no one was looking up or could hear me shout over the sound of the rain and cars, and everyone had their windows closed!

But as I said, I've been doing that for over a decade, I focused myself to be strong and hold on, maybe someone would find me! And behold, a few minutes later, I heard someone actually opening the balcony door! I thought I was saved, but suddenly that guy cursed at me and started stepping on my fingers, can you believe it? But I thought 'Not like this!' and determined to hold on, shouting for him to stop and help me, but he was crazy, he didn't listen! Finally he let off, but just when I thought I was finally safe something really heavy crushed my fingers and I fell...

...I had made my piece with the world when I felt the pain of the impact, but pain meant I was still alive! Amazing, I thought! And now I was on the ground, someone would surely hear me shout now... when suddenly all I saw was a dark shadow filling all of my vision and well... then I was here."

St. Peter stares at him in disbelief. "Oh my, that's one of the most heartbreaking stories I've heard in a while (I used to drop in a biblical reference here but I can't remember which off the top of my head :( ) please go right in, you're welcome in heaven!"

So he moves on to the third guy, a really big, black hunk of a guy wearing nothing but a bedsheet around his waist. "So what's your story, my son?" He asks.

The guy shrugs. "Well, you know, I was in New York, and I was sitting in a fridge..."

[Wraith]

The first one has won an award in Britain for being the "Most Funny Joke" by some arbitrary university study or other, I make no claims as to be able to 'prove' that but it's still pretty good:

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson decide to go on a camping trip. After dinner and a bottle of wine, they lay down for the night, and go to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend.
"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."
Watson replied, "I see millions of stars."
"What does that tell you?"
Watson pondered for a minute.
"Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets."
"Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo."
"Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three."
"Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant."
"Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow."
"What does it tell you, Holmes?"
Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke: "Watson, you idiot. Someone has stolen our tent!"

The second is one that I just happen to like:

Keith was sitting his local bar drinking a beer when his friend Brian staggered in, ordered five beers, immediately gulped one down and sat down beside Keith.
"You look terrible!" said Keith. "What on Earth has happened!?"
"I have some bad news," Said Brian, downing his beer in one lighting a cigarette with a shaking hand. "Dave's died."
"Dave? Dead!? he was only 38, what happened!?!"
"It's a horrible story... He was lying in bed and he didn't know that the alarm had been set. It went off, scaring him half to death, and he sprang out of bed clutching his chest and having a heart attack!"
"Oh, no! Killed by a heart attack at such a young age!" Bemoaned Keither.
"No, that didn't kill him." Said Brian. "But he tripped on the bedsheets, fell into the ensuite and cracked his head on the sink! Clean through the porcelain, bits of ceramic studded all along his head!"
"Oh my God, what a way to die!"
"No, no, he survived that! But blinded by blood, he fell into the lightswitch, ripped the control from the wall and was electrocuted by it..."
"Holy cow, electrocuted to deat-"
"...And THEN he tumbled out of the bathroom, through the railing and smashed right through the stairs...."
"THROUGH the stairs!? No wonder he die-"
"...Then through the floor, into the kitchen and landed on the knife-block! Run him right though, it did!"
"Run through by a block of knives!?! Such a way to die!"
"Oh no, he survived that! He managed to roll off the counter, tripped over the cat and smashed straight through the glass window, cutting him to ribbons..."
"Hang on a minute!" Cried Keith, astounded. "You expect me to believe that he survived all of that? How exactly did he die?"
"I shot him." said Brian.
"Why the hell did you shoot him!?"
"It was my house he was wrecking!"

[Peelee]

The first one has won an award in Britain for being the "Most Funny Joke" by some arbitrary university study or other, I make no claims as to be able to 'prove' that but it's still pretty good:

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson decide to go on a camping trip. After dinner and a bottle of wine, they lay down for the night, and go to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend.
"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."
Watson replied, "I see millions of stars."
"What does that tell you?"
Watson pondered for a minute.
"Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets."
"Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo."
"Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three."
"Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant."
"Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow."
"What does it tell you, Holmes?"
Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke: "Watson, you idiot. Someone has stolen our tent!"

The second is one that I just happen to like:

Keith was sitting his local bar drinking a beer when his friend Brian staggered in, ordered five beers, immediately gulped one down and sat down beside Keith.
"You look terrible!" said Keith. "What on Earth has happened!?"
"I have some bad news," Said Brian, downing his beer in one lighting a cigarette with a shaking hand. "Dave's died."
"Dave? Dead!? he was only 38, what happened!?!"
"It's a horrible story... He was lying in bed and he didn't know that the alarm had been set. It went off, scaring him half to death, and he sprang out of bed clutching his chest and having a heart attack!"
"Oh, no! Killed by a heart attack at such a young age!" Bemoaned Keither.
"No, that didn't kill him." Said Brian. "But he tripped on the bedsheets, fell into the ensuite and cracked his head on the sink! Clean through the porcelain, bits of ceramic studded all along his head!"
"Oh my God, what a way to die!"
"No, no, he survived that! But blinded by blood, he fell into the lightswitch, ripped the control from the wall and was electrocuted by it..."
"Holy cow, electrocuted to deat-"
"...And THEN he tumbled out of the bathroom, through the railing and smashed right through the stairs...."
"THROUGH the stairs!? No wonder he die-"
"...Then through the floor, into the kitchen and landed on the knife-block! Run him right though, it did!"
"Run through by a block of knives!?! Such a way to die!"
"Oh no, he survived that! He managed to roll off the counter, tripped over the cat and smashed straight through the glass window, cutting him to ribbons..."
"Hang on a minute!" Cried Keith, astounded. "You expect me to believe that he survived all of that? How exactly did he die?"
"I shot him." said Brian.
"Why the hell did you shoot him!?"
"It was my house he was wrecking!"

First one I've heard hundreds of times. Second one was new, and also delightful!

[Anonymouswizard]

Honestly the best jokes will always fall flat for others, because they're based on the time and people there when they're made. For example a friend of mine joked that he made a chart of the women I express interest in, and the tendency for them to be Chinese has a positive correlation with time (the joke was more complex than that, but the problem is I can't share it because it relies on years of context, any attempt to would fall flat).

[Wraith]

Nonsense - the best jokes are always horrible puns that make other people groan out loud. For example:

What is the sound of a rubber airplane crashing?
Boeing! Boeing! Boeing!

A bear walks into a bar. he says "I would like a beer and................ a packet of peanuts."
The bartender says "That's fine, but why the big pause?"
The bear says "I'm a bear, they've always been big."

A red lion walks into a pub and orders a drink.
The bartender brings it over and makes conversation. "You know, I used to work in another pub that was named after you?"
The red lion looks up and says "Who names a pub 'Kevin'?"

Those are some of my best/worst - I used to know more but I have forgotten a lot of them. I have this condition that affects my memory, usually in the form of making me refuse to acknowledge the existence of mid-1980's prog-rock bands. Sadly there is no Cure. :smalltongue:

[Delta]

Nonsense - the best jokes are always horrible puns that make other people groan out loud.

Or horribly offensive in a way that makes people feel bad about laughing

(since I'm not sure about the forum rules regarding those topics, I've sanitized the following joke for political correctness. I'm sure most people can imagine the original version (or rather, one of them. human history is awful) rather easily)

Sauron and Voldemort are sitting in an inn talking about evil things when the barmaid comes over to stare at them in disbelief.

"You... you're the Lord of Mordor and He who shall not be named! What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?"

Voldemort shrugs. "Oh, we're just talking about his plan to kill a couple thousand elves and one cute puppy."

The maid backs away. "What? Why the puppy?"

Voldemort grins and looks back at Sauron. "What did I tell you? No one cares about the elves!"

[Contable]

Not that much of a stand-upper but the story of my husband's job interview makes me smile after weeks.
He was asked where would he see himself in 5 years and he responded: I see myself in your chair, doing what you do but better, because you're going to teach me:)

[Razade]

Mother has five kids, dad's super proud of this fact. So proud that he calls his wife "Mother of five". As you'd imagine, the mom's not so keen on the nickname. One night they're leaving a party and to the mother's frustration her husband calls out "Are you ready to leave, Mother of Five?" Fed up and at her wits end the mother retorts back "Yes father of two."

[Delta]

Mother has five kids, dad's super proud of this fact. So proud that he calls his wife "Mother of five". As you'd imagine, the mom's not so keen on the nickname. One night they're leaving a party and to the mother's frustration her husband calls out "Are you ready to leave, Mother of Five?" Fed up and at her wits end the mother retorts back "Yes father of two."

This joke needs at least a 5 minute setup to work properly ;)

[Lvl 2 Expert]

Honestly the best jokes will always fall flat for others, because they're based on the time and people there when they're made.

How do you train a good archer? You start with his grandfather!

(A knee slapper, apparently, around the 16th century or so.)

[Wraith]

Wasn't that attributed to Sun Tzu or King Edward I or something? I'm not sure that it's meant to be a joke, it's actual advice about cultivating useful skills in a society :smalltongue:

A Priest, a Vicar and a Rabbi walk into a bar. The bartender looks at them and says, "Is this some kind of joke?"

A Roman Legionnaire walks into a bar. He holds up two fingers and say, "Five beers, please."

For his birthday, I surprised my brother with the gift of a real, 3-tonne elephant. He said to me, "Thanks for the elephant", and I said "Don't mention it".

[Lvl 2 Expert]

Could be, but I know it as a joke aimed at people who keep insisting bows can be just as useful as muskets (or crossbows).

[Jormengand]

So when my girlfriend and I (both women) were out on a date and talking about who should pay for it, I said, "We should get the establishment to pay for our date so the Man can pay."

This is a joke that, on being repeated, got mixed reactions, so make of it what you will.

[Keltest]

Could be, but I know it as a joke aimed at people who keep insisting bows can be just as useful as muskets (or crossbows).

My understanding is that English/Welsh longbows were in fact significantly more powerful weapons than contemporary crossbows in the hands of a skilled wielder, having more power and much better range. The problem was that it takes a long time and constant practice to acquire and retain the skills needed to use one effectively.

[JeenLeen]

One my dad would like to tell.

When driving by a graveyard:
"How many people are dead in there?"
Answer:
"All of them."

[WarKitty]

A small two-seater aircraft crashed into the a churchyard out in rural ireland. Police have recovered 53 bodies and counting.

[Lvl 2 Expert]

My understanding is that English/Welsh longbows were in fact significantly more powerful weapons than contemporary crossbows in the hands of a skilled wielder, having more power and much better range. The problem was that it takes a long time and constant practice to acquire and retain the skills needed to use one effectively.

So, if you have half a year to get a standing army together, and you know the enemy uses early pike and shot formations with 20.000 soldiers in total, would you go for bows?

That's the historical context from which I know it. But I'll happily believe it was a strategical wisdom before that, which would only press down the point of humor differing over times and places.

[Peelee]

So when my girlfriend and I (both women) were out on a date and talking about who should pay for it, I said, "We should get the establishment to pay for our date so the Man can pay."

This is a joke that, on being repeated, got mixed reactions, so make of it what you will.

I got a good chuckle out of it. If you rephrased it as "we should bill the establishment" it would sound a little more organic, though.

[Tvtyrant]

So, if you have half a year to get a standing army together, and you know the enemy uses early pike and shot formations with 20.000 soldiers in total, would you go for bows?

That's the historical context from which I know it. But I'll happily believe it was a strategical wisdom before that, which would only press down the point of humor differing over times and places.

But later once guns had displaced armor bows regained many advantages, having a much higher rate of fire and being nearly as lethal.

One of the funniest thing about the Zulu Wars was the British would have done better in outdated armor.

[Keltest]

So, if you have half a year to get a standing army together, and you know the enemy uses early pike and shot formations with 20.000 soldiers in total, would you go for bows?

That's the historical context from which I know it. But I'll happily believe it was a strategical wisdom before that, which would only press down the point of humor differing over times and places.

Absolutely, if a significant proportion of my populace was already well trained in the use of the bow. From my understanding, training in the use of the longbow was considered one of the responsibilities of the English peasantry specifically for that purpose.

[veti]

Absolutely, if a significant proportion of my populace was already well trained in the use of the bow. From my understanding, training in the use of the longbow was considered one of the responsibilities of the English peasantry specifically for that purpose.

It was, in the 14th century - before firearms came into vogue. But the sheer amount of time required for training meant that they were eventually displaced in favour of arquebuses/muskets, even while the longbow remained tactically superior for a long time.

[Anonymouswizard]

It was, in the 14th century - before firearms came into vogue. But the sheer amount of time required for training meant that they were eventually displaced in favour of arquebuses/muskets, even while the longbow remained tactically superior for a long time.

Law was still legally enforceable for a long time though. Longbow practice every Sunday, overseen by the village Vicar. Not that anybody actually bothered to enforce it.

For the record, both this and 'it is illegal to eat mince pies on Christmas' have been revoked along with all those other weird and outdated laws we have. Suicide is no longer punished by hanging either (or attempted suicide for that matter). The one mystery remaining is that, with the amount of sherry he drinks, why Santa isn't in police custody for drunk driving every 25/12.


EDIT: my friends and I used to joke about taking bottles of vodka into exams, our university's rules actually allowed a fair few alcoholic drinks to be consumed during exams. Nobody actually did this, because we all wanted to pass, but it remained even after digital watches were banned. I believe that Oxford (not my uni) used to allow you to have a yard of ale during your exams, I'm not sure if that one's been removed yet.

[Lvl 2 Expert]

Absolutely, if a significant proportion of my populace was already well trained in the use of the bow. From my understanding, training in the use of the longbow was considered one of the responsibilities of the English peasantry specifically for that purpose.

Yes.

In a different time, in a different place. When the sentence would not have been a joke because everyone's grandfather was in fact a bowman.

The last significant battle were the British used the longbow as their principal weapon was in 1513 after that people in different countries kept bringing it up as such a great alternative until at least the early 1800's, among whom Benjamin Franklin. The logistics of that idea, having tens of thousands or more soldiers (and that's just the amount you have at any time, they get to retire after a certain tour of duty as well) taking up the longbow in a time and place where everyone's grandfather wasn't an archer is what the joke is about. Again, I'll gladly believe it was actually a sound tactical wisdom in other places and periods, but in the setting I know it from it's clearly a joke, and it would be about people arguing like you are here.

[Keltest]

Yes.

In a different time, in a different place. When the sentence would not have been a joke because everyone's grandfather was in fact a bowman.

The last significant battle were the British used the longbow as their principal weapon was in 1513 after that people in different countries kept bringing it up as such a great alternative until at least the early 1800's, among whom Benjamin Franklin. The logistics of that idea, having tens of thousands or more soldiers taking up the longbow in a time and place where everyone's grandfather wasn't an archer, is what the joke is about. Again, I'll gladly believe it was actually a sound tactical wisdom in other places and periods, but in the setting I know it from it's clearly a joke, and it would be about people arguing like you are here.

I'm not arguing about anything? The longbow was a better weapon. The logistical issues behind fielding armies equipped with it were what cause it to fall out of favor. I opened with that acknowledgment. I don't know what point youre trying to make.

[Lvl 2 Expert]

Imagine for a moment there was a joke "How do you train good programmer? Put them in front of a computer as kids!" That would have been a joke in the 60's, it would not be a joke today, just a statement. I'll let myself out now.

[Scarlet Knight]

"The secret to a happy marriage is dinner and dancing two times a week; I go tuesdays and my wife goes thursdays."

[Razade]

This joke needs at least a 5 minute setup to work properly ;)

Really doesn't. Tell it exactly like that every time and it slays.

[Peelee]

"The secret to a happy marriage is dinner and dancing two times a week; I go tuesdays and my wife goes thursdays."

That sounds like a Rodney Dangerfield line.

[Scarlet Knight]

That sounds like a Rodney Dangerfield line.

Henny Youngman, King of the One-liners :smallbiggrin:

[Peelee]

Henny Youngman, King of the One-liners :smallbiggrin:

You clearly haven't seen Dangerfield.:smallwink:

For reals, though, no disservice to Youngman, dude was amazing. He just happened to come first. Both were absolute Masters of it.

[Silverraptor]

This is probably one of the best jokes of all time.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTcRRaXV-fg

[Occasional Sage]

Jokes, is it? I won't tell it if y'all've heard it already, but do you know the one about Oedipus and King Midas? The punchline is motherf***ing golden!

[Anonymouswizard]

A couple more that I think ate great, although their probably terrible.

Neutron walks into a pub and asks how much for a pint of bitter. The barman looks at it and says 'for you? No charge.'


Horse walks into a pub. The barman asks 'why the long face?'
The horse responds 'my wife just died.'

[Bastian Weaver]

Electron walks into a pub and asks how much for a pint of bitter. The barman looks at it and says 'for you? No charge.'


Neutron, I believe. Electron has a negative charge.

[Anonymouswizard]

Neutron, I believe. Electron has a negative charge.

Serves me right for posting at work.

[napoleon_in_rag]

Two cannibals were eating a clown. One turns to the other and says "Does this taste funny to you?"

[Anonymouswizard]

Two cannibals were eating a clown. One turns to the other and says "Does this taste funny to you?"

That's on the level of:

Two muffins are in an oven. One turns to the other and says 'boy it's hot in here isn't it.' To which the other replied 'ah!!!! A talking muffin!'


Or:

Two snowmen are standing in a field. One turns to the other and says 'do you smell carrots?'

[Peelee]

Reminded of about one today.

A guy walking along a rural road see a farmer with a couple of cows. Guy never saw codes in love before, so he strikes up a conversation with the farmer. How much milk do those cows give," he asked. "Which one," the farmer replies, "the black one or the brown one?" "Brown one," the city slicker asked. Farmer said, "about a gallon a day." Guy was interested. "And the black one?" Farmer said, "around the same, a gallon a day."

A bit flummoxed, the man just said, "I see. What do you give them to eat?" Again the farmer asked, "which one? Black or brown?" "Black," said the man. Farmer said, "oh she just eats grass." The walker followed, "and the other one?" Farmer simply said, "grass."

The man was a bit annoyed by this. "Why do you keep asking which one when the answers are the same?!" he demanded. Farmer replied, "Well, because the black one’s mine." "Oh," said the man, "and the brown one?" Farmer looked at him and said, "also mine."

[WarKitty]

Neutron, I believe. Electron has a negative charge.

Why do people not want to hang out with electrons?

Because they're always so negative!

[Delta]

And then of course there's the joke you laugh about just because you get it (if you get it...)

A function and a constant are walking along the road. Suddenly the constant stops. "Oh my god!" It calls out in shock "There, I can see a differential operator hiding in the bushes up ahead!"

Says the function "So? Why would I care?"

"Well you may not care! But I'm a constant!" Replies the constant. "I'll be gone if it tries to differentiate me!" And promptly runs away to hide.

The function doesn't care and continues on, when suddenly the operator jumps out of the bushes. "Freeze! Now I got you, it's time to differentiate!"

Defiantly, the function stares back. "So? What are you gonna to, I'm e to the x, differentiate me all you want for all the good it's gonna do you lol!"

But the operator just laughs. "Are you now? And whoever said I'm d/dx?"

[Wraith]

Two muffins are in an oven. One turns to the other and says 'boy it's hot in here isn't it.' To which the other replied 'ah!!!! A talking muffin!'

I've heard a similar, though elongated version of that one:

A chimpanzee and a porcupine are sitting in a bath together.
The chimpanzee goes, "Ooh! Ohh! Ah! Ah!"
The porcupine says, "Put some more cold water in, then."
The chimp replies, "Holy crap! A talking porcupine!"

The famous physicist Heisenberg is pulled over by Highway Patrol. The policeman dismounts his bike, walks over, knocks on the window and asks the physicist, "Sir, do you know how fast you were going back there?"
Heisenberg says, "Yes, I do" and immediately disappears.

[Peelee]

The famous physicist Heisenberg is pulled over by Highway Patrol. The policeman dismounts his bike, walks over, knocks on the window and asks the physicist, "Sir, do you know how fast you were going back there?"
Heisenberg says, "Yes, I do" and immediately disappears.

I like that punchline. I've always heard it as the cop saying, "did you know you were going 80," and Heisenberg replying, "dammit, now I'm lost!"

[Lvl 2 Expert]

I like that punchline. I've always heard it as the cop saying, "did you know you were going 80," and Heisenberg replying, "dammit, now I'm lost!"

I like your version better to be honest. Not knowing your location doesn't make you disappear, but it does make you lost.

[Wraith]

It might even be a better joke if the two were combined. Given what little I know of the Principle beyond the broad outline, it might be suitable if the Policeman is the observer of the subject, so if HE states the subject's speed then the location has to change/be unknown to him.

"Did you know that you were going 88 miles per hour back there?" Asks the cop.
"OH SHI-" says Heisenberg, and immediately disappears.

So either Heisenberg disappears, or the Policeman goes blind. The former is probably less cruel :smalltongue:

-----

Why do Swedish, Finnish and Norwegian boats have a barcode painted on their hull?
So that they when they return to port, the military can Scandinavian.

[ve4grm]

The way I've heard it most is:

Cop: "Do you know how fast you were going?"
Heisenberg: "Of course! But I have NO idea where I am!"

[Ebon_Drake]

I watched an interview with Roger Federer the other day. The interviewer asked him what the best thing about coming from Switzerland is. He said the flag is a big plus.

I went to the zoo at the weekend, but all they had there was one dog. It was a Shih Tzu.

[Jon_Dahl]

https://cdn.dopl3r.com/memes_files/11-95-2113-voces-sao-amigos-no-facebook-2111-oie-gata-vamos-conversa-aqui-e-o-namorado-dela-conversa-comigo-ta-bom-como-vc-esta-digite-uma-mensagem-jptmM.jpg

[Cizak]

All those mathematician jokes back there and no one mentioned:

"An infinite number of mathematicians walk into a bar.
The first one tells the bartender: 'One glass of beer, please!'
The second one says: 'Half a glass of beer, please!'
The third one says: 'A quarter glass of beer, please!'
The fourth one says: 'One eighth of a glass of beer, please!'
At this point, the bartender says: 'You're all idiots', and pours two glasses of beer."

Two of my favorites in the "short and dumb" category are:

"I still remember the last words my grandfather spoke to me before he kicked the bucket.
He said: 'Hey, how far do you think I can kick this bucket?'"

"A psychic dwarf escaped from jail. The call went out that there was a small medium at large."

[Peelee]

All those mathematician jokes back there and no one mentioned:

"An infinite number of mathematician walk into a bar.
The first one tells the bartender: 'One glass of beer, please!'
The second one says: 'Half a glass of beer, please!'
The third one says: 'A quarter glass of beer, please!'
The fourth one says: 'One eighth of a glass of beer, please!'
At this point, the bartender says: 'You're all idiots', and pours two glasses of beer."

I thought there may have been a limit.

[Silverraptor]

All those mathematician jokes back there and no one mentioned:

"An infinite number of mathematician walk into a bar.
The first one tells the bartender: 'One glass of beer, please!'
The second one says: 'Half a glass of beer, please!'
The third one says: 'A quarter glass of beer, please!'
The fourth one says: 'One eighth of a glass of beer, please!'
At this point, the bartender says: 'You're all idiots', and pours two glasses of beer."


I had to read the last line twice. But after I did, I curled up into a ball of hysterical giggles and couldn't stop for 10 minutes.:biggrin:

[Wraith]

"I still remember the last words my grandfather spoke to me before he kicked the bucket.
He said: 'Hey, how far do you think I can kick this bucket?'"

I'll never forget the last words that my grandfather said to be before he died. He said: "What are you doing? Stop shaking the ladder, you idio-"

When I woke up this morning, there was a horse next to me in bed. Obviously, I'd had a nightmare.

My girlfriend has just told me, "I'm sorry, but I can't see you anymore." I say to her, "Hang on, I'm hiding behind the sofa."

[Cizak]

I had to read the last line twice. But after I did, I curled up into a ball of hysterical giggles and couldn't stop for 10 minutes.:biggrin:

Always great when you get to tell a classic to someone who hasn't heard it before. :smallsmile:

[Bastian Weaver]

Okay, time for SCIENCE!

The bartender says, "Hey, we stick to causality principle here".
Tachyon walks into a bar.

[Anonymouswizard]

An example of the bad punnery I tend to make in real life.

There's often suggestions of making an orion drive rocket, but no country's willing to deal with the fallout.

[Silverraptor]

Okay, here's one that's a classic.

*A duck walks in to a bar and walks up to the bartender. The duck asks, "Do you got any grapes?" The Bartender replies, "No." So the duck leaves.

The next day the duck walks in to the bar and walks up to the bartender. The duck asks, "Do you got any grapes?" The Bartender replies, "I told you we don't! We don't have any grapes!" So the duck leaves.

The next day the duck walks in to the bar and walks up to the bartender. The duck asks, "Do you got any grapes?" The Bartender replies, "No! We don't have any grapes here you dumb duck! If you come back in here asking for grapes again I'm going to nail your feet to the floor!" So the duck leaves.

The next day the duck walks in to the bar and walks up to the bartender. The duck asks, "Do you have any nails?" The Bartender replies, "No." Then the duck replies, "Well then, do you have any grapes?"*

[Bastian Weaver]

Okay, here's one from the times of Soviet Union.
Man comes to a shop and wants to buy gloves. And since the new policy of the party is to "try and be nice to people", so instead of just saying "no gloves, get out", the vendor says, "you're going to wear them with a coat, aren't you, sir?" "Yeah", says the man, "so what?" "You see, it would be perfect if you bring that specific coat here, so that we pick the matching gloves". "Okay, I'll just go home and fetch it", the man says. Another customer turns to him and says "Don't listen to them, buddy, I've brought my toilet and I've showed them my butt and they still don't have any toilet paper!"

[Elenna]

The way I've heard it most is:

Cop: "Do you know how fast you were going?"
Heisenberg: "Of course! But I have NO idea where I am!"

Huh, the way I've heard it is exactly the opposite: "Do you know how fast you were going?" "No, but I know exactly where I am!"

Also, the may not be funny to anyone but math majors, but oh well:

A sociologist, an engineer, and a mathematician are on a train in Scotland when they see a black sheep out the window.

"Oh look," says the sociologist, "there are black sheep in Scotland!"

"Well," says the engineer, "there is at least one black sheep in Scotland."

The mathematician replies "All we know for sure is that there is at least one sheep in Scotland, at least one side of which is black."

[ve4grm]

Huh, the way I've heard it is exactly the opposite: "Do you know how fast you were going?" "No, but I know exactly where I am!"

It's interesting the amount of... uncertainty that surrounds this joke.

:smallbiggrin:

[Mordokai]

Entropy ain't what it used to be.

[Peelee]

I know a ton of jokes about ex, but they're all a little derivative.

[Wraith]

There's a fine line between a numerator and a denominator; only a fraction of people know the difference.

[Anonymouswizard]

All these maths jokes.

Just don't do any work with functions under the influence of alcohol. It's dangerous, especially when you drink and derive.

[Sermil]

I'll never forget the last words that my grandfather said to be before he died. He said: "What are you doing? Stop shaking the ladder, you idio-"

When I die, I want to go peacefully in my sleep, like my uncle Ted.

Not screaming in panic, like the passengers in his car.

[PopeLinus1]

Joke? I just quote xkcd and hope for the best.

[Scarlet Knight]

Here's a classic updated for D&D:

A party wakes up in the wilderness in the early morn. The elf, the druid, and the halfling head to the bushes to heed the call of nature. When they finish, the elf walks to the river and washes both his hands up to the elbow. He notices his companions watching him and says, " Our elders teach us that whenever we do things, to take the time to do them thoroughly."

The druid grunts and goes to the river, but only washes the tips of his fingers. "Our elders taught us not to waste natures precious resources" he states.

The elf and the druid stare at the halfling who has yet to go to the river. "What?" he asks, "Our elders taught us not to piss on our hands."

[Silverraptor]

Here's a classic updated for D&D:

A party wakes up in the wilderness in the early morn. The elf, the druid, and the halfling head to the bushes to heed the call of nature. When they finish, the elf walks to the river and washes both his hands up to the elbow. He notices his companions watching him and says, " Our elders teach us that whenever we do things, to take the time to do them thoroughly."

The druid grunts and goes to the river, but only washes the tips of his fingers. "Our elders taught us not to waste natures precious resources" he states.

The elf and the druid stare at the halfling who has yet to go to the river. "What?" he asks, "Our elders taught us not to piss on our hands."

Heard something similar, but it was a Navy guys and a Marine.

[Peelee]

Heard something similar, but it was a Navy guys and a Marine.

I've heard tell that Marine stands for My Ass Rides In Navy Equipment. Among all the other joke military acronyms I've heard, I always thought that one was the most clever.

[Scarlet Knight]

Heard something similar, but it was a Navy guys and a Marine.

It originally was for the military, but it actually works with any three professions .

[Strigon]

A Serpent Guard, a Horus Guard and a Setesh Guard meet on a neutral planet.
It is a tense moment. The Serpent Guard's eyes glow. The Horus Guard's beak glistens.

The Setesh Guard's... nose drips.