A Funny Resolution

, , , , | Working | December 17, 2012

(I am working the New Year’s Eve to New Year’s Day graveyard shift. A man comes in at 12:15 am.)

Customer: “How fresh is that coffee?”

Me: “Well, it was made last year.”

Customer: *laughs and gets a large*

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His Story Isn’t Rat-ified

, , , , , , | Right | November 30, 2012

(I am waiting to check in to a small hotel. When I walk up to the front desk, the concierge is answering the phone. The speaker is loud enough that I can follow most of the conversation.)

Concierge: “Hello, front desk.”

Caller: “There’s a squirrel in my room!”

Concierge: “A squirrel in your room? Please be careful, sir. We’ll send someone along right away to remove it.”

Caller: “Better hurry, it’s a big one! It opened the window!”

Concierge: “Sorry, did you say the squirrel was able to open the window?”

Caller: “Yeah, with its little hands!”

Concierge: “You should leave your room right now and we’ll send someone along.”

Concierge: *over the radio* “Security to room [number] to remove a squirrel, please.”

(I check in. As I do so, the concierge is very flustered and apologetic about the squirrel issue.)

Security: *radio* “Uh, front desk, this ain’t a squirrel.”

Concierge: “What? What is it?”

Security: “A raccoon. And the window’s sealed shut.”

(My spouse works in animal control and I know we’re in an area that has a rabies problem, so I feel the need to speak up.)

Me: “There’s a rabies risk here, so you should really call animal control.”

Concierge: “Okay, I’m gonna—”

Security: “Also, this guy’s drunk as s***, and he’s telling me the raccoon is his pet cat.”

Concierge: “F*** it. I’m calling the cops.”

(Luckily, the raccoon was healthy, but the unfortunate hotel guest was deemed drunk, disorderly, and in possession of a local zoo’s stolen raccoon!)

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Admitting Defeat Was An Easy Thing Touché

, , , , , , | Right | November 29, 2012

(The owner of the bookstore where I work is very old and walks with a cane. Despite this, he always wanders the shelves and helps out patrons. Behind the counter, in a glass case, he keeps an assortment of trophies and medals he won in his youth. One night, someone decides to try to steal them.)

Owner: “I’m sorry, but you can’t be behind the counter.”

Robber: *smashing the glass* “F*** you, old man! Just stay away and don’t do anything stupid!”

(The robber sweeps the medals into his backpack and then tries to open the till.)

Owner: “Stop that, young man! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

Robber: *waves a large knife* “Yeah, well so are you! Back off! How do you open this f***ing thing?””

Owner: “Take a look at all those medals.”

Robber: “What? Just open the f***ing cash register!”

Owner: *very calmly* “Just take a look.”

Robber: *confused* “Uh, okay. Yeah, they’re gold. That’s why I took them, you a**hole. Gold fencing, gold fencing, silver fencing…”

(The owner gracefully draws the sword from his sword-cane.)

Robber: “Oh, please! Try that stuff in a real fight and you’ll just get kill—”

(With a flick of his weapon, the owner removes the robber’s glasses.)

Robber: *drops the knife* “Don’t hurt me!” *drops to his knees*

(I had called the police as soon as the knife came out. They arrive and identify the robber as a serial burglar who had stabbed a previous victim. Years later, at the owner’s retirement party, he recounts the story.)

Owner: “You know, hearing that story makes me think of two things. One, I wish a fencing judge had been there so I could have gotten the gold for that bout, and two, I missed the only time in my life when I could have asked someone if they called that a knife.”

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My Dog Thinks You’re Nuts

, , , , , | Right | July 31, 2012

(I work at a dog park, and I get to bring my Great Dane to work with me. Most of my regulars know and love my dog, and he has his own little fan club. My Dane is an obedience champion and has a vast vocabulary of verbal and hand signal commands, including “shake”. However, because of his height, if someone asks him to “shake”, they usually get smacked for their troubles. An unpleasant new visitor to the park begins making disparaging comments.)

New Visitor: *to me* “Border Collies are a real man’s dog. If you aren’t smart enough for a collie, you get something like that!” *points at my dog*

Me: “Excuse me, but that’s incredibly rude.”

New Visitor: “See? What did I tell you? Only a stupid woman would own a stupid dog like that!”

Regular #1: “Actually, that dog is brilliant.”

New Visitor: “Whatever. I bet he doesn’t even know how to shake hands.”

Regular #2: *smiles* “Oh, please try…”

New Visitor: *to my Great Dane* “Shake!”

My Great Dane: *smacks him in the crotch*

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Tree Of Strife

, , , , , | Related | July 18, 2012

(When I was 10, lightning struck a tree in our backyard, killing it. Two years later, my grandfather randomly decides to come over and cut it down. My dad teaches at the junior high I attended, and we arrive home at the same time, converging on the driveway.)

Me: “What’s that noise?”

Dad: “Sounds like a chain saw.”

(We look at my grandfather’s truck in the driveway and run through the gate to our back yard. My grandfather is, in fact, dangling from the top of the dead tree with one arm and holding a running chainsaw with the opposite hand.)

Dad: “Dad! What the h*** are you doing?!”

Grandfather: “Shut up, boy, and get me a ladder!”

(There was no way he was getting down without one, since he’d cut off all the branches on the way UP!)

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