Posts by Matt Burt

The armies of Alexander the Great were greatly feared in their day, but there was one problem that they had that almost defeated them. Alexander could not get his people to staff meetings on time. He always held the meetings at 6:00PM each day after the day’s battle was done, but frequently his generals either forgot or let the time slip up on them and missed the staff meeting. This angered Alexander very much, to say the least!
The next day, the swinging bar doors were tossed open and in walks the dog that had been in the saloon the day before. He was dressed all in black. A black cowboy hat, a black vest, three black cowboy boots and one black bandage. The dog looks around, waits for the talking to quiet down, and says, "I’m lookin’ fer the man who shot my paw."

I remember it was about that time that Jim Sloane used to work at the YMCA. Now that was a character. He was, in my opinion, an unusual individual who was interested in some rather exotic subjects. The most unusual thing about him was his pet, (rumored to have been captured somewhere in Africa) which reminded me of a piece of granite with eyes, which he called Teddy. Teddy typically just sat there, doing nothing, but sometimes it lifted a lower edge and sucked in powdered sugar. That was all it ate. No one ever saw it move, but every once in a while it wasn’t where people thought it was. There was a theory that it moved when no one was looking.

Tim Bellamy, a lifeguard, constantly ridiculed poor Teddy, saying mean and nasty things about it. Laverty’s pet looked like an iguana, and to me, at least, was the ugliest looking thing that you would ever want to see. He called this ‘iguana’ by the unlikely name of Dolly.

Well, one day Sloane had had enough of these comments, and challenged Bellamy to a race. His Teddy against Bellamy’s Dolly. And to make things a bit more interesting, he suggested a rather hefty wager on the outcome, which Bellamy quickly agreed to. Soon everyone got into the act. Every one of them bet on Dolly. At least it moved. Sloane covered it all. He’d been saving his salary for some time (for some exotic project, no doubt) and put every penny of it on Teddy.

The race course was set in the basement garage. At one end, two bowls were set out, one with powdered sugar for Teddy, and another with ground meat for Dolly. Dolly started off at once and began moving along the floor slowly toward the meat. All in attendance cheered it on.

Teddy just sat there without budging.

"Sugar, Teddy. Sugar." said Sloane, pointing. Teddy did not move. It looked more like a rock than ever, but Sloane did not seem concerned.

Finally, when Dolly had ‘ran’ half-way across the garage, Sloane said casually to Teddy, "If you don’t get out there, Teddy, I’m going to get a hammer and chip you into pebbles."

That was when people realized how truly different Teddy was. Sloane had no sooner made his threat when Teddy just disappeared from its place and re-appeared smack on top of the sugar.

Sloane won, of course, and he counted his winnings slowly and luxuriously.

Bellamy said bitterly, "You knew that it would do that."

"No, I didn’t," said Sloane, "but I knew he would win. It was a sure thing."

"How come," said Laverty.

"It’s an old saying everyone knows. Sloane’s Teddy wins the race."

I had been asked to make the rounds of the local farms one week in the absence of my boss, Dr. Johnson. Most of the week was uneventful; I saw the usual horse vaccinations, sprained dog paws, and sick cows. However, when I got to the MacPherson farm, I saw something extraordinary.

While I was talking to farmer MacPherson, a pig came ambling around the corner of the barn. What was extraordinary about it was that the pig had three artificial legs!

I asked farmer MacPherson about this curious animal. Why would anybody give a pig even one artificial leg, much less three?

“Wal,” he drawled, “that there ain’t no ordinary pig. Let me tell you — one day ah was out baling some hay, and I hopped off’n the tractor to check the tire, which was kinda wobbly. Wouldn’t’cha know it, the tractor started to roll of its own accord, and trapped me right there under the wheel. Just then old Pinky — the pig, that is — wandered by and saw whut’d happen, and skeedadled back to the house and fastened his teeth on my wife’s dress, and wouldn’t let go until he dragged her out to where I was layin’, and then she got the tractor off me. That’s one smart pig — better’n Lassie, I’d say.”

I was quite impressed. I knew pigs were pretty intelligent, but I had never heard of a pig doing anything like that. “That’s amazing,” I said, “But that still doesn’t explain the artificial limbs.”

“Wal, lemme tell ya about another time,” MacPherson said. “Mah son was down at the swimmin’ hole yonder a couple summers ago, and he hit his head on a big log out in the middle of the water. He was about to go down for the third time, when ol’ Pinky jumped into the water, swam out to him, grabbed him by the shorts with the teeth, and drug ‘im coughin’ an’ splutterin’ up onto shore. Saved mah son’s life, that pig did.”

“Incredible!” I exclaimed. “Most pigs can’t even swim! But the artificial legs…?”

“Wal, last year the old farmhouse burned down,” the farmer continued. “Like as not we all would have been cinders, but for that little porker. We was all asleep when the fire started, but ol’ Pinky ran squealing ’round the house ’til we all woke up, and went and dragged my youngest daughter from her bedroom just seconds ‘fore the roof collapsed.”

“That’s one special pig,” I admitted, “But please, tell me, why does Pinky have three artificial legs?”

“Wal,” said farmer MacPherson, “A pig like that’s just too good to eat all at once.”

It came to pass that a very poor peasant was down to his last meal.
Deciding he could no longer live in squalor, he decide to sell the only thing he owned… his talking mule. These was no ordinary Francis type of talking mule, this one could tell jokes and sing and keep the local townspeople very happy. With much regret, the peasant sets off to the big city to sell his mule.

He sets up on a street corner and the mule draws an immediate crowd. The mule is so funny that the crowds can’t remain standing because they’re laughing so hard. Finally, a man comes up to the peasant and says "I’m a talent scout for The Tonight Show. I MUST have your mule for our show." Unfortunately, the talent scout had just been pick pocketed, and had lost his wallet. The only thing of value he had was a subway token. He convinced the peasant to trade the mule for the "Magic Token of Good Fortune" and secured the mule.

On the way home, the peasant realized that he had been taken, and he was broken hearted. He used his subway token to get him to the edge of the city. When he put the token in the slot, alarms went off and he was notified that he was the 1 billionth rider of the subway, and that he just won 50 million dollars.

Meanwhile, the Mule was so funny that he took over Jay’s job, and eventually put Dave, Conan, John and every other late nighter out of business. The Morale of the story: A Mule that is funny is soon bartered.