Too Funny

If this story doesn't make you cry for laughing so
hard, let me know and 1'11 pray for you. This is a
story about a couple who, had been happily married for
years. The only friction in their marriage was the
husband's habit of farting loudly every morning when
he awoke. The noise would wake his wife and the smell
would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air.
Every morning she would plead with him to stop ripping
them off because it was making her sick. He told her
he couldn't stop it and that it was perfectly natural.
She told him to see a doctor; she was concerned that
one day he would blow his guts out. The years went by
and he continued to rip them out! Then one Christmas
morning as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and
he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl
where she had put the turkey innards and neck,
gizzard, liver and all the spare parts. A malicious
thought came to her. She took the bowl and went
upstairs where her husband was sound
Asleep, and gently pulling back the bed covers, she
pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants
and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts. 
Some time later she heard her husband waken with his
usual trumpeting, which was, followed by a blood
curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as
he ran into the bathroom. The wife could hardly
control herself as she rolled on the floor laughing,
tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned
she had got him back pretty good. About twenty minutes
later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained
underpants with a look of horror on his face. She bit
her lip as she asked him what was the matter. He said,
"Honey, you were right. All these years you have
warned me and I didn't listen to you."
"What do you mean?" asked his wife. "Well, you always
told me that one day I would end up farting my guts
out, and today it finally happened. But by the grace
of God, some Vaseline; and these two fingers, I think
I got most of them back in."    



One Sunday morning, the minister noticed little Alex standing in the foyer
of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names with
small American flags mounted on either side of it. The seven year old had
been staring at the plaque for some time, so the minister walked up, stood
beside the little boy, and said quietly, "Good morning Alex."
"Good morning sir," he replied , still focused on the plaque. "Sir, what is
this?" he asked the minister.
The minister said, "Well, son, it's a memorial to all the young men and
women who died in the service." Soberly, they just stood together, staring
at the large plaque.
Finally, little Alex's voice, barely audible and trembling with fear, asked,
"Which service, the 9:45 or the 11:15?"