It was the worst air disaster in Poland’s aviation history. A small two seater plane crashed into a cemetery one early afternoon.
The Polish search and rescue workers had recovered over 800 bodies, and expected that number to climb as the digging continued into the night.
Looking in the mall for a cotton nightgown, Marge tried her luck in a store known for its hot lingerie. To her delight, she found just what she was looking for.
While waiting in the line to pay, Marge noticed a young woman in line behind her holding the same nightgown. Marge smiled with a sense of self-confidence. It confirmed her belief that despite being over 50, her taste in clothing was still very hip.
“I see we have the same sense of style,” Marge said proudly to the 20 something behind her.
“I know! Isn’t it adorable?” the young woman replied. “It’s the perfect birthday gift for my 70 year old grandmother.”
A big-city lawyer was representing the railroad in a lawsuit filed by an old rancher. The rancher’s prize bull was missing from the section through which the railroad passed. The rancher only wanted to be paid the fair value of the bull.
The case was scheduled to be tried before a judge in a small town court room.
The attorney for the railroad cornered the rancher and tried to get him to settle out of court. The lawyer did his best selling job, and finally the rancher agreed to take half of what he was asking.
After the rancher had signed the release and took the check, the young lawyer couldn’t resist gloating a little over his success. “You know, I hate to tell you this, old man, but I put one over on you in there,” said the lawyer. “I couldn’t have won the case. One engineer was asleep and the other was in the caboose when the train went through your ranch that morning. I didn’t have one witness to put on the stand. I bluffed you!”
The old rancher replied, “Well, I’ll tell you, young feller, I was a little worried about winning that case myself, because that durned bull came home this morning.”
Louis was seated next to a rather staunch minister on a flight to Texas. After the plane was airborne, drink orders were taken.
“I’ll have a whiskey and soda,” requested Louis, and it was promptly brought forth and placed before him.
Rather predictably, the minister looked upon the man’s drink with scorn. He viewed alcohol as being the drink of the devil. Nevertheless, the flight attendant then asked him if he would like a drink.
The minister replied in disgust, “I’d rather be savagely raped by brazen whores than let liquor touch my lips.”
Just as he was about to take a sip, Louis handed his drink back to the attendant and said, “Me too. I didn’t know we had a choice.”
Maybe some of you will recall… About a decade ago I was about to be deployed to Iraq when a medical issue came up. I tried to minimize it, but the Army wasn’t taking any chances and shipped me back home. I had to have surgery to fix it, and I thought everything would be OK… Then another medical issue popped up… Or rather out. I had an umbilical hernia than required another surgery. And for some reason my recovery wasn’t going very well. My health really started taking a nose dive, and that’s when a blood test revealed I had a very severe case of hypothyroidism.
About 6 months later an endocrinologist did some more blood tests to find out I was suffering from a rather nasty case of Hashimoto’s disease. This isn’t like that chubby emo girl’s thyroid condition where she uses it to whine and complain every g–damn day of her life. The blood tests were quite clear that I have a severe autoimmune response to thyroid, and the doctors don’t hold back at throwing thyroid prescriptions at me. I have to take about 300mcg of levothyroxine every day in case you’re wondering. Sometimes I switch over to Naturethroid, but for now it’s the synthetic T4.
There is no cure for autoimmune disease, and for the most part I just go on with life… But every once in a while I’ll have one of those “Hashi Flare Ups”, and it will just ruin my fucking week. Every g–damn joint is on fire. Moving is hell. My neck is tender, I swell up like a tick, and my head feels like it’s about to explode… Or rather it was. It started to clear up Saturday.
I’ll be OK, but man I hate this shit.
Well, it seems that our mystery contributor last week was none other than “darkmare”. So thank you darkmare for the jokes, and thanks for using the submission page. Also the usual thanks goes out to George. It always means so much to me to have people sending me jokes. Of course anyone can send in the jokes via our submission page, or send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Your contributions make my efforts at keeping Flush Twice online a genuine pleasure.