Knock knock

 

Today is one of those rare sunny days in Bellingham. The sky is clear and a cool breeze is blowing from the bay. So it looks like I will be outside working my butt off.

Which Ryanne was delighted to learn through Google, is a shortened version of 'buttocks muscle.' It always makes her giggle. If the subject comes up she is sure to giggle, repeat, giggle, repeat.

But (with one 't' which for some reason isn't as funny) she is at the age when she is started to enjoy more sophisticated humor. She also has a talent that I never mastered. She can tell a joke and remember the punchline. I don't like to think of all the times people have politely listened to my set-up only to be disappointed by a flubbed zinger. My jokes always end with some version of 'no wait, then the doctor, I mean the lawyer... or something like that. Anyway, you get it.' Which is everyone's cue to smile politely.

Not that everyone is polite when listening to jokes. We've all been around one of those jerks who is compelled to interrupt with 'I've heard that one' or make additions or corrections. I like to think a special hell has been created for these people where they will spend eternity listening to knock-knock jokes from PBS Kids.

“Knock, knock.”

“Who's there?”

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who's there?”

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

“Knock knock,”

“Who's there?”

“Orange.”

“Orange who?”

“Orange you glad I didn't say banana?”

Or something like that. Anyway, you get it.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


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