A group of psychiatrists were attending a convention. Four of them decided to leave, and walked out together.
One said to the other three, “People are always coming to us with their guilt and fears, but we have no one that we can go to when we have problems.” The others agreed.
Then one said, “Since we are all professionals, why don’t we take some time right now to hear each other out?”
The other three agreed.
The first then confessed, “I have an uncontrollable desire to kill my patients.”
The second psychiatrist said, “I love expensive things and so I find ways to cheat my patients out of their money whenever I can so I can buy the things I want.”
The third followed with, “I’m involved with selling drugs and often get my patients to sell them for me.”
The fourth psychiatrist then confessed, “I know I’m not supposed to, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep a secret…”
The following is supposedly a true story relating a situation that actually occurred during the war.
During the Persian Gulf War, I was assigned to go to Saudi Arabia. As I was saying good-bye to my family, my three-year-old son, Christopher,
was holding on to my leg and pleading with me not to leave.
“No, Daddy, please don’t go!” he kept repeating.
We were beginning to make a scene when my wife, desperate to calm him, said, “Let Daddy go and I’ll take you to get a pizza.”
Immediately, Christopher loosened his death grip, stepped back and in a calm voice said, “‘Bye, Daddy.
Little Johnny went to the store with his grandmother.
On the way home, he looked through her bags to see what she had purchased.
In one package, Little Johnny found some panty hose and he began to sound out the words “Queen Size.”
He then turned to his grandmother and exclaimed,
“Look Grandma, you wear the same size as our bed!”
Do you fart in bed ? If this story doesn’t make you cry for laughing so hard, let me know and I’ll 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 day morning, as she was preparing the turkey for dinner and he was upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the innards, neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts, and a malicious thought came to her.
She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep and, gently pulling the bed covers back, she pulled back the elastic waistband of his underpants and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his shorts.
Sometime 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 bath room. 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 blood stained 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 two fingers. I think I got most of them back in……………….…..”
Sister Mary Katherine lived in a nunnery, a block away from Jack’s liquor store.
One day, in walked Sister Mary K. and said, “Oh Jack, give me a pint o’ the brandy.”
“Sister Mary Katherine,” exclaimed Jack, ” I could never do that! I have never sold alcohol to a nun in my life!”
“Oh, Jack,” she responded, “it’s only for the Mother Superior.”
Her voice dropped. “It helps her constipation, you know.”
So Jack sold her the brandy. Later that night, Jack closed the store and walked home.
As he passed the nunnery, who should he see but Sister Mary Katherine. And she was snookered.
She was singing and dancing, whirling around and flapping her arms like a bird, right there on the sidewalk.
A crowd was gathering. Jack pushed through and exclaimed, “Sister Mary Katherine! For shame! And you told me this was for the Mother Superior’s constipation!”
Sister Mary Katherine didn’t miss a beat as she replied, “And so it is, me lad, so it is. When she sees me, she’s gonna shit.”