Forgive Your Enemies

The preacher’s Sunday sermon was, “Forgive Your Enemies”. He asked, “How many have forgiven their enemies?”

About half held up their hands.

He then asked, “How many of you know that you’re supposed to forgive them?”

Now about 80% held up their hands.

He then asked, “Now how many of you are going to make it a point to go out and forgive your enemies?”

All responded, except one elderly lady.

“Mrs. Jones, are you not willing to forgive you enemies?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Mrs. Jones, that is very unusual. How old are you?”

“Ninety three.” she replied.

“Mrs. Jones, please come down in front and tell the congregation how a person cannot have an enemy in the world.”

The little sweetheart of a lady tottered down the aisle, turned, and said: “It’s quite easy really. I just outlived those bitches!”



Brandon never learned to cook for himself, but at least he doesn’t pretend to know how to cook either. Dewey on the other hand… He’s been operating under the delusion that he had some kind of natural talent in the kitchen. Chef Demerde might just be the teacher that Dewey needs to overcome his culinary catastrophes, but some unsettling realities about Dewey’s cooking may emerge.

Black November

When I was a young turkey, new to the coop,
My big brother Mike took me out on the stoop.

Then he sat me down, and he spoke real slow,
And he told me there was something that I had to know.

His look and his tone I will always remember,
When he told me of the horrors of “Black November”.

“Come about August, now listen to me,
Each day you’ll get six meals instead of just three,

“And soon you’ll be thick, where once you were thin,
And you’ll grow a big rubbery thing under your chin,

“And then one morning, when you’re warm in your bed,
In will burst the farmer’s wife to hack off your head,

“Then she’ll pluck out all your feathers so you’re bald and pink,
And scoop out all your insides and leave you lying in the sink,

“And then comes the worst part” he said not bluffing,
“She’ll spread your cheeks and pack your rear with stuffing.”

Well, the rest of his words were too grim to repeat,
I sat on the stoop like a winged piece of meat,

And decided on the spot that to avoid being cooked,
I’d have to lay low and remain overlooked,

I began a new diet of nuts and granola,
High-roughage salads, juice and diet cola,

And as they ate pastries, chocolates and crepes,
I stayed in my room doing Jane Fonda tapes,

I maintained my weight of two pounds and a half,
And tried not to notice when the bigger birds laughed,

But ’twas I who was laughing, under my breath,
As they chomped and they chewed, ever closer to death,

And sure enough when Black November rolled around,
I was the last turkey left in the entire compound,

So now I’m a pet in the farmer’s wife’s lap,
I haven’t a worry, so I eat and I nap,

She held me today, while sewing and humming,
She smiled as she said, “Christmas is coming”.

At the Pharmacy

A lady walked into a drug store and told the Pharmacist she needed a bottle of cyanide.

The pharmacist said, “Why in the world do you need cyanide?”

“So I can poison that no good husband of mine,” she replied in an indignant tone.

The pharmacist’s turned pale as his eyes grew wide. “Lord have mercy!” He exclaimed. “I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband! That’s against the law! They’d throw us both in jail, and I’d lose my license!”

Then the lady pulled out a photo of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife, and handed it to the pharmacist.

The pharmacist paused briefly as he examined the picture. “Well now,” he said with a restrained tone, “you didn’t tell me you had a prescription.”