The Final Spite
Knowing his time was almost up, a notoriously cynical millionaire summoned his attorney to his bedside to hastily draft his very first last will and testament.
“I want twenty-five percent of my cash to go to charity,” the old man rasped. “I’ve taken a lot from this world; it’s time to give a little back.”
“Exceedingly noble, sir,” the lawyer noted, scribbling furiously.
“Another twenty-five percent goes to my son. The lazy leech has been waiting for my heart to stop for years anyway.”
“Understood. And the remaining fifty percent?” the lawyer asked.
“That goes entirely to my wife,” the millionaire smirked, “but on one strict condition: she must remarry immediately after my funeral.”
The lawyer paused, thoroughly baffled by the bizarre clause. “I can certainly write that in, sir… but if you don’t mind me asking, why on earth do you care if she remarries?”
The dying man flashed a wicked, triumphant grin and whispered:
“Because I want to ensure that at least one man genuinely regrets my death.”
That rooster knows exactly what he’s doing…
A farmer has 200 hens, but no rooster, and he wants chicks. So he goes down the road to the next farmer and asks if he has a rooster which he would sell.
The other farmer says, “Yeah, I’ve got this great rooster, named Randy. He’ll service every chicken you got, no problem.”
Well, Randy the rooster costs a lot of money, but the farmer decides he’ll be worth it. So he buys Randy.
The farmer takes Randy home and sets him down in the barnyard first, giving the rooster a pep talk. “Randy, I want you to pace yourself now. You’ve got a lot of chickens to service here, and you cost me a lot of money. Consequently, I’ll need you to do a good job. So take your time and have some fun,” the farmer said, with a chuckle.
Randy seemed to understand, and when the farmer points toward the henhouse, he takes off like a shot. WHAM! Randy nails every hen in the henhouse — three or four times. The farmer is shocked.
Later, the farmer hears a commotion in the duck pen, and sure enough, Randy is in there.
Later still, the farmer sees Randy after a flock of geese, down by the lake. Once again — WHAM! He gets all the geese.
By sunset, Randy is out in the fields chasing quail and pheasants.
The farmer is distraught — worried that his expensive rooster won’t even last 24 hours.
Sure enough, the farmer goes to bed and wakes up the next day, to find Randy d*ad as a doorknob — stone cold in the middle of the yard. Buzzards are circling overhead.
The farmer, saddened by the loss of such a colorful — and expensive — animal, shakes his head and says, “Oh, Randy, I told you to pace yourself. I tried to get you to slow down, now look what you’ve done to yourself.”
Randy opens one eye, nods toward the buzzards circling in the sky and says, “Shhh. They’re getting closer.”
What a little joker!
A blonde was taking helicopter lessons.
The instructor said, “I’ll radio you every 1000 feet to see how you’re doing.”
At 1000 feet, the instructor radioed her and said she was doing great.
At 2000 feet, he said she was still doing well.
Just before the helicopter reached 3000 feet, the propeller stopped, and she twirled to the ground.
The instructor ran to where she crash-landed and pulled her out of the helicopter. “What went wrong?”
The blonde said, “At 2500 feet, I started to get cold, so I turned the big fan off.”
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