The lady replied, “I need it to poison my husband.”

The pharmacists eyes got big and he exclaimed, “Lord have mercy!

I can’t give you cyanide to kill your husband! That’s against the law!

I’ll lose my license! They’ll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!”

The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist’s wife.

The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, “Well now. That’s different. You didn’t tell me you had a prescription.”

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At the front of the room the Doctors took some chalk and drew a full size door on a Blackboard and offered an ice cream to any patient who could open the door.

There was a mad rush for the door with the patients scratching a clawing at the door and the handle.

The doctors were disappointed, until they noticed a single patient who remained in his chair and was quietly chuckling to himself as he watched his fellow patients.

Encouraged that at least one patient could be discharged today, the doctors asked him why he wasn’t trying to open the door.

The patient, who could no longer contain his laughter, shouted, “I’ve got the key!”

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Why did God make mothers?
1. She’s the only one who knows where the sticky tape is
2. Mostly to clean the house
3. To help us out of there when we were getting born

How did God make mothers?
1. He used dirt, just like the rest of us
2. Magic plus super powers and a lot of stirring
3. God made my mum just the same like he made me. He just used bigger parts

What ingredients are mothers made of?
1. God makes mothers out of clouds and angel hair and everything nice in the world and one dab of mean.

Why did your mum marry your dad?
1. My dad makes the best spaghetti in the world. And my mum eats a lot
2. She got too old to do anything else with him
3. My grandma says that Mum didn’t have her thinking cap on

Who’s the boss at your house?
1. My mum doesn’t want to be boss, but she has to because dad’s such a goof ball.
2. Mum. You can tell by room inspection. She sees the stuff under the bed.
3. I guess mum is, but only because she has a lot more to do than dad.

What’s the difference between mums and dads?
1. Mums work at work and work at home and dads just go to work at work.
2. Mums know how to talk to teachers without scaring them
3. Mums have magic, they make you feel better without medicine.

What does your mother do in her spare time?
1. Mothers don’t do spare time
2. To hear her tell it, she pays bills all day long.

What would it take to make your mum perfect?
1. On the inside she’s already perfect. Outside, I think some kind of plastic surgery.
2. Diet. You know, her hair. I’d diet, maybe blue.

If you could change one thing about your mum, what would it be?
1. She has this weird thing about me keeping my room clean. I’d get rid of that.
2. I’d make my mum smarter. Then she would know it was my sister who did it and not me.
3. I would like for her to get rid of those invisible eyes on the back of her head.

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The next day, the boy and the girl went back to the sandbox. The boy tried to put his car into the girl’s garage. The next thing you heard was a loud scream. Then an old man came running over and asked “what happened”? The girl told him “the boy was trying to put his car into my garage, so I pulled his two back tires off”.

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Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose his compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of the date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:
I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without using a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.”

Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with one of my little girls, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. You might have heard about her other two sisters, but you will not look. If you make her cry, I make you cry.

Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are sofas, beds, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and my old Army Field Jacket - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature power tools are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a middle-aged, gray-headed, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and a half acre behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to drift back a few years to my Army days and mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a hostile vehicle. Whenever I hear engines at night, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the weapons, probably as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Announce the perimeter password, relay in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.

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“1 day I go 2 climb up a 3 outside a house to peep. But couple saw me, so I panic and 4 down. The man rush out and want to 5 with me. I run until I feel 6 and throw up. I go to 7 eleven and grab some 8 to throw at him. Then I took a 9 and try to stab him. 10 God he run away. So, I put the 9 back and pay for the 8 and left 7 eleven. Next day, I call my boss and say I am 6. He said 5, tomorrow also no need to come back 4 work. He also ask me to climb a 3 and jump down. I don’t understand, I so nice 2 him but I don’t know what he 1″.

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“Hello,” she said, as she waited for her change.

“Er, I’m sorry. Do I know you?” The man said in some confusion.

“Oh, my mistake. I thought you were the father of one of my kids,” she said apologetically, and picking up her shopping, she left the store. The man was astonished. He thought, “How amazing that a good looking woman like that should have forgotten who fathered her kids.” Then he began to worry. He had had an encounter in his youth that could have resulted in a child he didn’t know about. She had been blonde, pretty, and about the same height. On leaving the store, he saw the woman getting into her car. He ran over to her and said,

“Look, you couldn’t have been the girl I met that night at a party in Hampstead, in 1990 could you? We shagged on the billiards table in front of everyone, things got really wild and I got so drunk that I didn’t get your number.”

The woman looked utterly outraged and said, “No! I’m your son’s English teacher.”

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Have you any grounds?
Yes, an acre and half and nice little home.

No, I mean what is the foundation of this case?
It made of concrete.

I don’t think you understand. Does either of you have a real grudge?
No, we have carport, and not need one.

I mean. What are your relations like?
All my relations still in Poland.

Is there any infidelity in your marriage?
We have hi-fidelity stereo and good DVD player.

Does your wife beat you up?
No, I always up before her.

Is your wife a nagger?
No, she’s white.

Why do you want this divorce?
She going to kill me.

What makes you think that?
I got proof.

What kind of proof?
She going to poison me. She buys a bottle at drugstore and put on shelf in bathroom. I can read, and it say: “Polish Remover”.

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Several years ago, I returned home from a trip just when a storm hit, with crashing thunder and severe lightning. As I came into my bedroom about 2 a.m., I found my two children in bed with my wife, Karen, apparently scared by the loud storm. I resigned myself to sleeping in the guest bedroom that night.

The next day, I talked to the children, and explained that it was OK to sleep with Mom when the storm was bad, but when I was expected home, please don’t sleep with Mom that night. They said okay.

After my next trip several weeks later, Karen and the children picked me up in the terminal at the appointed time. Since the plane was late, everyone had come into the terminal to wait for my plane’s arrival, along with hundreds of other folks waiting for their arriving passengers. As I entered the waiting area, my son saw me, and came running shouting, “Hi, Dad! I’ve got some good news!” As I waved back, I said loudly, “What is the good news?” “The good news is that nobody slept with Mommy while you were away this time!” Alex shouted. The airport became very quiet, as everyone in the waiting area looked at Alex, then turned to me, and then searched the rest of the area to see if they could figure out exactly who his Mom was.

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Jack is the only son of Awe Schitt and O. Schitt. Awe Schitt, the fertilizer magnate, married O. Schitt, the owner of Knee-deep Schitt, Inc.

In turn, Jack Schitt married Noe Schitt and the deeply religious couple produced 6 children: Holie Schitt, The twins; Deep Schitt and Dip Schitt, Fulla Schitt, Giva Schitt and Bull Schitt, a high school dropout.

After being married for 15 years Jack and Noe divorced. Noe later married Mr. Sherlock and because her kids were living with them, she wanted to keep her previous name. She was known as Noe Schitt-Sherlock.

Dip Schitt married Loda Schitt and they produced a cowardly son, Chicken Schitt. Fulla Schitt and Giva Schitt were inseparable throughout childhood and consequently, married the Happens brothers in a dual ceremony.

The Schitt-Happens children are Dawg, Byrd and Horse. Bull Schitt the prodigal son, left home to tour the world. He recently returned with his new bride, Pisa Schitt.

Now, when someone say’s you don’t know Jack Schitt, you can correct them.

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