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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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October /
November 2006 Contest Results |
Beware The
Helpful Spouse
By Terry Fitterer,
Minnesota
Ok, I’ll
confess…it was me you heard screaming, “Chivalry is NOT dead!” from the
rooftop. Trouble is, I’m convinced my husband was the only one who
listened. And, you might know, it would be the one and only time he ever
did. I thought it quite a sweet gesture this year when he volunteered to
fight off the masses at the local grocers’ to pick out our Thanksgiving
turkey, insisting that a man could get a much better deal per pound on
meat than a woman. Not being a glutton for punishment, I let him go.
Five hours and
much pacing later, I glanced out the front window as he was pulling into
the driveway. I immediately became suspicious when he returned from the
garage pushing a wheelbarrow. After all the grunting and heavy breathing
subsided he stood, proud as a peacock, in the middle of the kitchen
floor and declared, “Now here’s a bird!” Somehow, I just couldn’t bring
myself to tell him that being his prize catch of the day was the size of
a Clydesdale, at $1.10 per pound he had spent more on this turkey than
our monthly house payment. After mentioning that I could not possibly
expose our 20 year old oven to such a glandular case, he patted me on
the behind and quipped, “Well, honey, that’s why we have a microwave!” I
would have had more luck shoving the microwave inside the turkey.
I suggested that
maybe he should head down the basement, oil-up the chain saw for carving
and afterwards, hunt down a supply house that carried walk-in coolers
for freezing the leftovers. As there was just the two of us, I also
tossed around the idea of writing a bestseller entitled, “1,824 Ways To
Cook And Make Garments With Turkey”, since it was going to be our house
guest for the next 2 ½ years.
I think I could
have been in a more festive mood had it not been for one minor detail
nagging at me all day…where was I going to find a children’s wading pool
this time of year to cook it in? As I stood shaking my head, a bright
thought occurred to me. After he gets a hernia from lifting the
drumsticks, his grocery shopping days will be history. It’s just as
well—Christmas dinner could be some form of mutant goose.
This house ain’t
big enough for the four of us.
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