Menhirs and Women

Sylvia Didcot was a world renowned archaeologist specializing in monolithic monuments. She also happened to be a certified kleptomaniac who had successfully concealed her pilfering compulsion throughout her illustrious and celebrated career. When Sylvia Didcot went to Stonehenge, however, she couldn't resist sneaking a giant prehistoric menhir into the boot of her Ford Capri and dragging it back home along the A303.

“What’s that?” said Brian, Sylvia’s husband.

“What does it look like?” said Sylvia.

“It looks like a giant prehistoric menhir protruding out the back of your Ford Capri,” said Brian.

“Then why did you ask?”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” said Brian.

“Yes,” said Sylvia.”My name’s not really Sylvia. It’s Margaret. I changed it when Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister. I’m sorry.”

“But I love the name Margaret, “ said Brian. “And I love Margaret Thatcher. I’m secretly a raging Tory.”

“In that case,” said Sylvia. “I think we should get a divorce. You can have the kids, I'm taking the menhir.”

The Condition

Peter proposed to his girlfriend, June in July in a poppy field near Aldershot, a town in the English county of Hampshire about 60 miles south west of London administered by Rushmoor Borough Council. Peter worked for the council as a junior administrator whilst June was captain of the cheerleaders for Aldershot Football club. What a team they made! (Peter and June, not Aldershot). Peter popped the question just as June climbed over a stile so that he wouldn’t have to kneel down and put undue pressure on his languishing joints. Peter had dodgy knees but was, on the plus side, a dab hand at chess. June, on the other hand, had an exemplary set of knees but could only see in black and white.

“I will marry you, Peter - but one on condition.”

“Name it,” said Peter.  

“I want to have a threesome.”

“Great,” said Peter, genuinely enthused. “Me too. With a man or a woman?”

“Both,” said June. “But not with you.”

Peter was confused.

“I’m confused,” said Peter. “You want to have a threesome, but not with me?”

“That’s right,” said June. “With Karen and Alan.”

“Karen and Alan,” repeated Peter. “Our best friends?”

“That’s right,” said June. “It was actually Alan’s idea. Apparently he’s dynamite in bed and he says he’d love to do with it me and Karen. Karen’s very open minded and a massive slut too so she’s up for it and I want to see what it’s like to sleep with a man with fully functioning knees.”

Peter was mortified. He had always hated his knees but never more so than now. “And what about me?” he said. “Perhaps I could spend the night with a couple of your cheerleading colleagues?”

“No,” said June. “They’re like wild animals; you wouldn’t be able to handle them. But you can watch me and Karen and Alan if you like, you might learn something.”

“OK,” said Peter, “I’d like that.”

“And then we can get married,” said June, stepping sassily down from the stile, “and play as much chess as you like without feeling guilty.”

The Wrong Room

Early this morning I woke up to find a Spanish dwarf in my bedroom, standing in the corner next to my fish tank. I looked at the tank and saw that it was fishless. 

“What have you done with my fish?” I said.

The Spanish dwarf dodged my question, and instead replied with one of his own:

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“No.” I said. "I've never seen you before.”

“Then how did you know I was from Spain?”

“I guessed from your accent.” I said.

“Actually, I'm from Catalonia. Do you not recognise the hat?”

The dwarf was wearing a red Barretina: a classic piece of Catalonian headgear. I should have know. Damn, I can be such an unobservant fool in the morning!  

“I'm sorry,” I said. “But you haven't answered my question. What have you done with my fish?”

“If I told you, I'd have to kill you,” said the Spanish dwarf from Catalonia.

“But I thought you loved me.”

“I thought so too. But I think I've got the wrong room. Is your name Nina Juanita Gomez Garcia Castro?"

"No, it's Gerry."

"Oh, then this is definitely the wrong room. Sorry to have bothered you."

With that the Catalonian dwarf promptly left my room, and I managed to fall back to sleep. When I re-awoke a few hours later, my fish was happily swimming in his tank and a small red Catalonian hat was lying on the floor next to it. 

An honest mistake

Tony Monroe thought that a cat house was a place you went to buy cats so he was genuinely surprised when he found himself engaging in the physical act of love with a woman he didn't know in exchange for money.

…

“It was an honest mistake,” said Tony to his wife, Cheryl, who had really wanted a cat for her birthday but now just wanted a husband who didn’t accidentally sleep with other women.

“So what was she like?” said Cheryl.

“She was nice,” said Tony. “But I think I upset her: after we’d finished I asked for a refund because I needed the money to buy you a cat.”

“Never ask a prostitute for a refund!” said Cheryl. “That’s the golden rule! OMG Tony, this is the worst birthday ever, not only did you not get me a present, you went to a brothel and insulted the “service provider” by asking for your money back!”

“If it’s any consolation,” said Tony, “when we were in bed together, I kept most of my clothes on and when I – you know – arrived … I said your name instead of hers.”

“You didn’t?” said Cheryl.

“I did,” said Tony. “I was thinking of you the whole time.”

“Why, Tony, that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Tony Monroe then left the room and returned presently brandishing a box.

“And here’s your birthday present,” said Tony, “surprise!”

“A cat in a box: it’s what I’ve always wanted!” said Cheryl, tears of joy and sadness running down both sides of her face. “But I don’t understand. Where did you get the money from?”

“Well,” said Tony, “the cat house has a no-refund policy but the nice lady said I could start a tab instead. So I can pay the next time I’m there!”

Cheryl said nothing. There wasn't any point. She looked at the cat. The cat looked at her; they seemed to understand each other. Tony was in the dog house for going to the cat house but did he have any idea what he'd done? Cheryl looked at Tony, then back at the cat. “Forgive him,” the cat seemed to be saying, “for he knows not what he does.”

“Thank you,” said Cheryl.

“You're welcome,” said Tony.

“I wasn't talking to you,” said Cheryl. 

A compromise

Lenny and Jean were at loggerheads. Lenny was as stubborn as a mule and Jean obstinate like a whale (humpback or beluga).

After 7 years of ineffectual peace talks and fruitless resolution-seeking, Lenny and Jean finally agreed to compromise.

Since mules were impractical and whales (humpback or beluga) hard to come by, they decided instead to get a cat.

Pistols

Why must pistols always be at dawn?
I am not a morning person
For the love of a woman
I'll go to bed
But not lose my head
It's simply not my idea of fun
And besides I don't even have a gun
(I mean why would I?!)
So if it's all the same to you
I'll not risk my life
You can keep my wife
I'll not die
Or eat lead
When I can lie in
and eat bread

you (9/11)

you were an inspiration
to at least one person
open brackets me close brackets
if not an entire generation
(ours)
a maverick in your field
the polar opposite of a scarecrow
so attractive!
and not just to birds
i might add
but i won't
if an ostrich could fly
that's the kind of ostrich
you would have been
no word of a lie
the best!