Saturday, February 26, 2011

Recycled Joke Saturday

  Okay, so the below isn't one of my own.  But, I heard it so many years ago and remember liking it then.  I'd forgotten it until I saw the name written in a Mens' room last Friday (it's a long story).
  But, it isn't NEARLY as funny as Oilfield Trash's "Courage" post.  If you haven't seen it, please do yourself a favor and do so (AFTER reading my post-I give credit where credit's due, but I ain't crazy!)
  Unfortunately, I don't have time today to write anything original.  But, since I know that at least a couple of you check in to see further examples of my descent into insanity, I decided to at least recycle an old joke.  Plus, I want to maintain my stylish reputation, so it's publish, publish, publish.  Who cares if it's not my own work?
  For what it's worth, I hope you enjoy this old nugget (which, coincidentally, is what they said about the elderly hooker).

***The below is a work of fiction. Any similarity between persons herein or the United Parcel Service is merely a fabrication used principally for the enjoyment of the reading audience.  The deliveryman could very easily work for FEDEX, the United States Postal Service, or the Gotti family.***

  One day, a UPS deliveryman (NOTE: I've never liked their motto: "What can brown do for you?"  It makes me think of laxatives.) strode into the Donald Trump Savings & Loan Company.
  He quickly scanned the warren of cubicles in the main office space.  His air of confidence was supreme, bordering on the cocky, despite being attired in a spiffy pair of brown shorts, a natty brown shirt, a "please-kill-me-now" brown hat, and a pair of suede Buster Browns.
  Glancing at his digital watch (on a brown wristband, naturally), he realized he would be terribly late for his next delivery if he couldn't find the recipient for the package (do I need to tell you it was brown?) he held under his arm.
  In an effort to speed up the process, he cleared his throat and boomed out, "Excuse me."
  Like so many prairie dogs, the dozen or so employees poked their heads tentatively above their cubicles.  Craning their necks and blinking their eyes, they glared at the intruder.
  The UPS deliveryman twisted the parcel in his hands and examined the shipping label.  "I'm curious," he said, "is there a Sexhauer here?"
  An employee in the back fixed him with a harsh stare.  He scoffed, "Sex Hour!?  Hell, mister, we don't even get a ten-minute coffee break!"


Tomorrow: A "Penwasser Original." Unless the men with the butterfly nets come get me.



  1. i'd love to read the story if the butterfly net men do arrive. but i guess you'd have to evade them in order to write the story. so run fast & don't be afraid to throw elbows when needed.

  2. Okay, that was pretty good. I liked it!

  3. Sorry, the butterfly net guys caught me. When I showed them my feet, they let me go.

  4. i don't blame them. they smelled like pee.