A five-year-old girl accompanied her sister to school on visitors’ day. Classes were scheduled to end at noon, followed by lunch and a party for guests. Several minutes remained before the bell, signaling the end of Religion Class and the start of the day’s second grade curriculum. The teacher, a nun, noticed the young girl squirming in her seat, looking bored. To get her attention, the nun unfurled a large canvas above the blackboard of Jesus as a young boy chasing a butterfly while holding a net in his outstretched arm over his head as he looked up following the flight of a butterfly. A few steps from Jesus’ feet was a deep canyon. The nun asked the little girl, “What do you think would happen to Jesus if he fails to look down?” She replied in her deep religious voice unlike her usual high soprano, “He’d be a dead duck, that’s all!”
The curious, mischievous boy watched his parents light candles and fireplace logs with matches. Fascinated with the sudden combustion when struck, he surreptitiously took a few matches to observe their magical fire. To prevent being seen by his mother, he walked down the street to a neighbor’s yard where tall, dry grass leaned against their frame garage. He unsuccessfully struck the first match but the second match ignited the dry grass, and flames licked along the side of the garage. As smoke billowed aloft, he ran home, meeting a fire truck turning the corner. Later that morning, the doorbell rang. It was the fire chief asking to see the boy, who was given a ride in the fire chief’s vehicle for the rest of the day while receiving a lecture about matches and fire danger. The boy walked in his front door wearing a fireman’s hat, looking pleased with himself, until he saw his unamused father, who said, “Son, this is going to hurt me more than you.” Knowing a spanking was imminent, the boy said, “Then why do it?”
A banker and a lawyer walked into a bar. But the two men, who left their young sons of the same age in the car, said they were going to the public library. It was Friday, following a few days in the Rocky Mountains where the boys and fathers enjoyed fly fishing for rainbow trout and shooting wild sage hens for their meals. They camped in the forest on beds of fragrant pine needles under tents provided by outfitters. The fathers felt they earned a few adult drinks in the nearby mountain town, downing one, then another. The young boys saw their fathers running toward their car, shouting: “Unlock the car doors!” and “A man just shot somebody in there!” Driving back to camp, the boys heard the banker say, “Do you think anyone recognized us?” The lawyer replied, “It won’t enhance our careers to see our names and photographs in the newspaper associated with a barroom brawl and murder!” The fathers, sweating bullets, said in unison: “Boys, don’t tell your mother!”
The following conversation was overheard in a medical office, nurse to patient:
“Did you know your surgeon is a musician?”
“No, what instrument does he play?”
“Keyboard.”
“I play the keyboard. In fact, I played with Three Dog Night. Few people know this, but the group originally was Four Dog Night.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“On our first tour, one of the dogs got out of the car, lifted his leg to pee and was hit by a truck. Killed graveyard dead.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Not really. April Fools!”
