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Jokes Page 6

A poor, downtrodden beggar

A poor, downtrodden beggar stands on the street, not having much luck. Exasperated and hungry he decides to make a sign, and hastily scrawls the word "Beg" on a piece of cardboard.

Hardly anyone pays him and his new sign any mind. A few passers-by drop him a couple of pennies.

Suddenly, he gets an idea. He picks up his sign and to the word "Beg," he adds ".com."

From around the corner, two venture capitalists appear, tripping over themselves to be the first to hand him a quarter of a million dollars.

Pleased with his new-found wealth, the beggar decides to go one better. Flipping his cardboard sign over, he writes "e-Beg."

Immediately, Jerry Yang and Bill Gates pull up in limousines and ask to buy him out.

An elderly man lay dying in his bed

In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.

With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate chip cookies.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted: the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.

The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife.

"Stay out of those," she said, "they're for the funeral."

ERE'S A JOKE

A MAN WALK INTO A PUB WITH A PORK PIE ON HIS HEAD AND ASKS THE BARMAN FOR A PINT OF LAGER.

BARMAN: DO YOU KNOW YOU'VE GOT A PORK PIE ON YOUR HEAD?

MAN:YES, I ALWAYS WEAR A PORK PIE ON MY HEAD ON WEDNESDAY.

BARMAN:BUT IT'S TUESDAY TODAY.

MAN:OH MY GOD I MUST LOOK A REAL IDIOT.

French Farmhand

There was once a sheep farmer who had a French farmhand working with him to help castrate his sheep. As the farmer castrated the first sheep, the French farmhand took the parts and was about to throw them into the trash.

"No!" yelled the farmer, "Don't throw those away! My wife fries them up, and we eat them, they're delicious! They're called Sheep Fries!"

The farmhand saved the parts and took them to the farmer's wife who cooked them up for supper. This went on for three days....and each evening they had Sheep Fries for supper.

On the fourth night the farmer came in to the house for supper.

He asked his wife where the farmhand was, and she replied, "It's the strangest thing! When he came in and asked what was for supper, I told him French Fries, and he ran like hell!"

A fellow stopped at a rural gas station

A fellow stopped at a rural gas station and, after filling his tank, he paid the bill and bought a soft drink. As he stood by his car to drink his cola, he watched a couple of men working along the roadside.

One man would dig a hole two or three feet deep and then move on.

The other man came along behind and filled in the hole.

While one was digging a new hole, the other was about 25 feet behind filling in the old. The men worked right past the fellow with the soft drink and went on down the road.

"I can't stand this," said the man, tossing the can in a trash container and heading down the road toward the men.

"Hold it, hold it," he said to the men. "Can you tell me what's going on here with this digging?"

"Well, we work for the county," one of the men said.

"But one of you is digging a hole and the other fills it up. You're not accomplishing anything. Aren't you wasting the county's money?"

"You don't understand, mister," one of the men said, leaning on his shovel and wiping his brow.

"Normally there's three of us ... me, Rodney and Mike. I dig the hole, Rodney sticks in the tree and Mike here puts the dirt back. Now just because Rodney's sick, that don't mean that Mike and me can't work."