Daddy, how much money do you make an hour?"
"That's none of your business! What makes you ask such a thing?" the man said angrily.
"I just want to know. Please tell me, how much you make an hour?" pleaded the little boy.
"If you must know, I make $20.00 an hour."
"Oh," the little boy replied, head bowed. Looking up, he said,
"Daddy, may I borrow $10.00 please?"
The father was furious. "If the only reason you wanted to know how much
money I make is just so you can borrow some to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense,
then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why
you're being so selfish. I work long, hard hours every day and don't have time
for such childish games."
The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door. The man sat down and
started to get even madder about the little boy's questioning.
How dare he ask such questions only to get some money.
After an hour or so, the man had calmed down, and started to think he may have
been a little hard on his son.
Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $10.00, and he
really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little
boy's room and opened the door.
"Are you asleep son?" he asked.
"No daddy, I'm awake," replied the boy.
"I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier," said the man.
"It's been a long day and I took my aggravation out on you. Here's that $10.00 you asked for."
The little boy sat straight up, beaming. "Oh, thank you daddy!" he yelled.
Then, reaching under his pillow, he pulled out some more crumpled up bills.
The man, since the boy already had money, started to get angry again.
The little boy slowly counted out his money, then looked up at the man.
"Why did you want more money if you already had some?" the father grumbled.
"Because I didn't have enough, but now I do," the little boy replied.
"Daddy, I have $20.00 now. Can I buy an hour of your time?"
* Always leave loved ones with loving words, it may be the last time you see them.
The bookie slowly counted out the money into the old lady's wrinkled hands.
"Lady," he said, "I just don't understand. However did you manage to pick the winner?"
The old lady patted her white locks in place. She looked a little bewildered.
"Really," she said, "I don't know myself. I just stick a pin in the paper and, well, there it is."
The bookie took a deep breath. "That's all very well, lady," he cried.
"But how on earth did you manage to pick four winners yesterday afternoon?"
"Oh," replied the old lady, "that was easy. I used a fork."
Heaven vs Hell
While walking outside the Oireachtas one day an Irish TD is tragically hit by a truck and dies.
His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.
'Welcome to heaven,' says St. Peter. 'Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you.'
'No problem, just let me in,' says the man.
'Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity.'
'Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,' says the TD.
'I'm sorry, but we have our rules.'
And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people.
They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne.
Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly & nice guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go.
Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises....
The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.
'Now it's time to visit heaven.'
So, 24 hours pass with the TD joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.
'Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity.'
The TD reflects for a minute, then he answers: 'Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell.'
So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell.
Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage.
He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above.
The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder.
'I don't understand,' stammers the TD. 'Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?'
The devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday, we were campaigning.....
Today, you voted."
Actions
Back to TopicsReply to TopicShare this topic
Get paid just by sending us users/traffic.
Signup takes seconds, start now!
Signup as an affiliate!