Can you help me out? (Joke)

One Christmas Eve a panhandler approached a man passing on the street.  “Excuse me, sir.  Can you give me enough money for a meal?”

“If I give you twenty dollars, will you spend it on alcohol?”

“Oh no.  I used to drink, but I gave it up years ago!”

“Well, would you spend it on guns and hunting equipment? ”

“No!  I’ve never been hunting in my life.”

“What about fishing?  Would you blow this money on fishing?”

“No!  I’ve never cared a thing about fishing, either.”

He handed the panhandler the twenty, then said, “Okay, come on home with me.  I’m going feed you a fine meal, get you a bath and some clean clothes and put you up for a few days.  My wife needs to see what happens to a man who doesn’t drink, hunt, or fish!”

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Christmas Spirit (Joke)

The benevolence committee was collecting for Christmas and approached the richest man in town.  “Can we count on you for a contribution for this year’s Christmas campaign?”

He headed them off, “You probably don’t know my mother is in a nursing home, totally penniless, dependent on handouts for all except necessities, do you?  My brother and his wife both have catastrophic illnesses and neither has worked in over a year.  That’s not all, my sister’s husband ran off and left her with six kids.  Her house burned and she has no where to go.  If someone doesn’t do something for them, they will be on the street.  Now if I’m not going to help any of them, what makes you think I’m going to help you?”

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I was a Young Tycoon Guest Post by Jacquelen Oby-Ikocha A Cookpot and Twisted Tales


I eagerly await the posts of my talented friend, Jacquelen Oby-Ikocha from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales. Please check out her lively blog. She is so full of life. I often think how I’d enjoy spending time with her. I am grateful to have the opportunity to exchange guest posts with her on the subject of our younger, naughtier days.

I Was a Young Tycoon
Daddy loved National Geographic and had quite a collection gathered through his bachelor days even before I was born. Like clockwork the pile grew each month with the arrival of his subscription. They were vivid with pictures and moved with us each time we moved house.
Then we lived in staff quarters that were made of blocks of eight blocks and eight three bedroom apartments for each block with servant quarters. Like you can imagine that was a lot of human beings.
One of the neighbours’ daughters was my good friend and I will call her A. A was two years older and seemed very World-wise to me. She always had lots of goody-goody rubbery chocolate, Bazooka Joe or Chat sweet which she gave at her whim and after following her around like a drooling young pup.
She was reluctant to divulge the secret to her young wealth, but I kept my eyes keenly open to observe her mercantile skills which paid off eventually.
The secret was that the garbage collectors that came around several times a week were also willing to buy broken/used household items and I daresay she sold a good bit of her family’s crockery. I got to learn that they collected old tins, gallons and newspapers which would otherwise be tossed into the trash.
So my triangular trade business started off very nicely. I began to exchange my dad’s old newspapers for some kobo’s and purchased goody-goody like an heiress.
Newspapers ran out and we graduated to the glossy National Geographic *I say we because I had unwittingly enrolled my younger sister whose eagle eyes were sharper than mine and the regular scent of sweet on my breath drew her in like an ant*
Unfortunately, during our trading days, my grandma moved to stay with us to help my mom care for a brand new brother and grandma was far too sharp and shrewd for an older lady.
Soon enough she took note of the refuse collectors that seemed to court our house far more than other locations and she burst my bubble gum.
The paddle that she gave me taught me a lesson or twenty and took age off my life.
Surprisingly, my dad was not as physically livid as I thought that he would be *it was just mom and grand-mom that heckled and made enough fuss*, but dad was pragmatic in his negotiations and I believe that I paid for those magazines with extra portions of chores till the day he handed me over to my husband in great relief.
Needless to say, I must have contributed a generous portion of mischief that expressly propagated the grey hairs on my parent’s heads.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha