Hot Slave, Hillbilly, Newlywed, College and Kids
Politically incorrect pun alert! You have been warned!
Before the Civil War, a rich Southern gentleman owned an iron works where he manufactured boilers, kettles and stoves. Being the entrepreneur that he was, he did a little slave trading on the side.
He kept his slaves in the basement of his factory, just beneath the area where his stove makers worked. One day the boss brought in a slave whom he was about to sell, but the slave was very sick; in fact, he had a temperature of 105 degrees. The sick slave was delirious, ranting all day, making it difficult for the stove makers above him to work.
Finally the day ended, and a frustrated, tired stover returned home. His wife looked at him and remarked how tired he looked.
“You’d be tired too, ” he replied, “if you’d been stoving over a hot slave all day.
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A forty-year-old hillbilly carried a younger hillbilly into the doctor’s office, deposited him on the examining table, and said, “See if you can patch him up soon. I shot up his rear end like it was a tail on a possum.
Don’t hurt him none, ’cause he’s my son-in-law.”
The doctor said, “Why would you shoot your son-in-law?”
The hillbilly said, “He warn’t my son-in-law when I shot him.”
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“I never slept with a man until I married your father,” declared the stern mother to her wild young daughter.
“Will you be able to say the same thing to your daughter?”
“Yes,” replied the girl, “but not with such a straight face.”
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While working in the psychology department at Wingate College in Wingate, North Carolina, I was asked to enlarge a chart for a meeting.
I called the copy room and asked, “Can I get something blown up down there?”
After a pause the voice on the line replied, “I think you want the chemistry lab.”
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Kids say the darnest things!
Whenever I come home from playing golf, my son always asks me excitedly, “Did you win, Dad?”
I have explained to him time and time again that you’re really just playing against yourself.
We were on vacation and I had gone out to play a round. When I returned, the kids were swimming in the hotel pool, which was full of kids and surrounded by dozens of parents.
From across the pool, at the top of his lungs, my son yelled, “Hey Dad! Did you have fun playing with yourself?”
We checked out that night…