A sailor came home from a year-long deployment only to find his wife with a new born baby. Furious, he was determined to track down the father to extract revenge.
“Was it my friend Sam?” he demanded.
“No!” his weeping wife replied.
“Was it my friend Jim then?” he asked.
“NO!” she said even more upset.
“Well, which one of my no-good friends did this then?” he yelled.
“Don’t you think I have any friends of my own?” she screamed.
A judge was interviewing a lady regarding her pending divorce, and asked, “What are the grounds for your divorce?”
She replied, “About four acres and a nice little home in the middle of the property with a stream running by.”
“No,” he said, “I mean what is the foundation of this case?”
“It is made of concrete, brick and mortar,” she responded.
“I mean,” he continued, “What are your relations like?”
“I have an aunt and uncle living here in town, and so do my husband’s parents.”
He said, “Do you have a real grudge?”
“No,” she replied, “We have a two-car carport and have never really needed one.”
“Please,” he tried again, “is there any infidelity in your marriage?”
“Yes, both my son and daughter have stereo sets. We don’t necessarily like the music, but the answer to your question is ‘yes’.”
“Ma’am, does your husband ever beat you up?”
“Yes,” she responded, “about twice a week he gets up earlier than I do.”
Finally, in frustration, the judge asked, “Lady, why do you want a divorce?”
“Oh, I don’t want a divorce,” she replied. “I’ve never wanted a divorce. My husband does. He said he can’t communicate with me, but I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
Several days ago as I left a meeting at our church, I desperately gave myself a personal TSA pat down. I was looking for my keys. They were not in my pockets.
A quick search in the meeting room revealed nothing.
Suddenly I realized: I must have left them in the car! Frantically, I headed for the parking lot. My wife, Diane, has scolded me many times for leaving the keys in the ignition. My theory is the ignition is the best place not to lose them. Her theory is that the car will be stolen.
As I burst through the doors of the church to get outside, I came to a terrifying conclusion: her theory was right. The parking lot was empty.
My cell phone I had: I immediately called the police. I gave them my location, confessed that I had left my keys in the car, and reported it stolen.
Then I made the most difficult call of all. “Honey,” I stammered. I always call her “honey” in times like these. “I left my keys in the car, and it’s been stolen.”
There was a period of silence. I thought the call had been dropped, but then I heard Diane’s voice.
“Ken,” she she said through gritted teeth, “I dropped you off!”
Now it was my time to be silent. Embarrassed, I said, “Well, would you please come and get me?”
“I’ll get there when I can,” she said, the acid dripping in her voice. “First I have to convince this policeman I haven’t stolen your car!”