[amphibian]

One tree asked another tree a question.

A few hours later, a lumberjack cut the second tree down.

The next day, the second tree said to the first, "You've stumped me."

[Coco with marshmallows]

two apples sitting in a fridge.

one says "cold in here, isn't it?"

the other: "AAAAAAAAAAAA! a talking apple!"

[Kurt Montandon]

Three pregnant women sat in a doctors waiting room waiting for their check-ups, each knitting for their soon-to-be babies.

One woman stops, put's down her knitting, takes a pill, and carries on. The other two look at her and say "what was that you've just taken". "Calcium tablet", she says, "good for me, good for baby".

The seond woman stops, puts down her knitting, takes a tablet, then carries on. "Multi-vitamin. Good for me, good for baby". Fair enough then.

Third woman: stops knitting, takes tablet, etc. "Thalidomide", she said with a shrug, "I can't knit sleeves."

[Slum]

A man walks into a drugstore and asks the pharmacist for a pack of condoms. Paying for them, he bursts into laughter and walks out of the store. The next day he comes in again, again buys condoms, and again walks out laughing. Thinking this is somewhat strange, the pharmacist asks his assistant to follow the man if he comes back. Sure enough, the man comes in the next day and walks out laughing. This time the assistant goes after him, returning 20 minutes later.

"So did you follow him?" asks the pharmacist.

"Yup."

"Where did he go?"

"Your house."

[Grumble]

Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighbouring kingdom.

The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youthful happiness. So he offered him freedom so long as he could answer a very difficult question.

Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer. If, after a year, he still had no answer, he would be killed.

The question was, "What do women really want?"

Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and, to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query.

Since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.

Arthur returned to his kingdom and began to poll everybody: the princess, the prostitutes, the priests, the wise men, the court jester.

He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer.

What most people told him was to consult the old witch, as only she would know the answer. The price would be high, since the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.

The last day of the year arrived, and Arthur had no alternative but to talk to the witch.

She agreed to answer his question, but he'd have to accept her price first: The old witch wanted to marry Gawain, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend! Young Arthur was horrified. The witch was hunchbacked and awfully hideous, she had only one tooth, she smelled like sewage water, and she often made obscene noises. He had never run across such a repugnant creature. He refused to force his friend to marry her and have to endure such a burden.

Gawain, upon learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He told him that nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table. Hence, their wedding was proclaimed, and the witch answered Arthur's question: "What a woman really wants is to be able to be in charge of her own life."

Everyone instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it went.

The neighboring monarch spared Arthur's life and granted him total freedom.

What a wedding Gawain and the witch had! Arthur was torn between relief and anguish. Gawain was proper as always, gentle and courteous. The old witch put her worst manners on display. She ate with her hands, belched and farted, and made everyone uncomfortable.

The wedding night approached. Gawain, steeling himself for a horrific night, entered the bedroom.

What a sight awaited! The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen lay before him! Gawain was astounded and asked what had happened.

The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her (when she had been a witch), half the time she would be her horrible, deformed self, and the other half, she would be her beautiful maiden self.

Which, she asked, would he want her to be during the day and which during the night?

What a cruel question. Gawain began to think of his predicament: During the day, he could have a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his home, he would be with an old spooky witch. Or would he prefer having by day a hideous witch but by night a beautiful woman to enjoy many intimate moments?

What would you do?

What Gawain chose follows below, but don't read until you've made your own choice.

...

Noble Gawain replied that he would let the witch choose for herself.

Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her and had let her be in charge of her own life.

What is he moral of this story?

The moral is that it doesn't matter if your woman is pretty or ugly; underneath it all ...................................she's still a witch. :eek:

[Zendog13]

What do you get if you cross a Kangaroo with an Elephant?
Big holes all over Australia.

What do you get f you cross a sheep and a kangaroo?
A woolly jumper.

And what do you call an 800 kilo Gorilla holding a sub-machine gun?
"SIR!!"

I guess these are as bad as it gets.

[Grumble]

A little girl and her mother were out and about.

Out of the blue, the girl asked her mother, "Mommy, How old are you?"

The mother responded, "Honey, women don't talk about their age. You'll learn this as you get older."

The girl then asked, "Mommy, how much do you weigh?"

Her mother responded again, "That's another thing women don't talk about. You'll learn this, too, as you grow up."

The girl, still wanting to know about her mother, then fired off another question, "Mommy, why did you and Daddy get a divorce?"

The mother, a little annoyed by the questions, responded, "Honey, that is a subject that hurts me very much, and I don't want to talk about it now."

The little girl, frustrated, sulked until she was dropped off at a friend's house to play. She consulted with her girlfriend about her and her mother's conversation.

The girlfriend said, "All you have to do is sneak a look at your mother's driver's license. It's just a like a report card from school. It tells you everything."

Later, the little girl and her mother were out and about again.

The little girl started off with, "Mommy, Mommy, I know how old you are. I know how old you are. You're 32 years old."

The mother was very shocked. She asked, "Sweetheart, how do you know that?"

The little girl shrugged and said, "I just know. And I know how much you weigh. You weigh 130 pounds."

"Where did you learn that?"

The little girl said, "I just know. And I know why you and Daddy got a divorce. You got an 'F' in sex."

[Grumble]

Once upon a time there were two (as opposed to three) identical twins, who, in defiance of all we know about the genetic basis of intelligence, were anything but identical mentally. One of them was, quite frankly, stupid, while the other was very sharp indeed. In fact, he was a master of ready wit and stunning repartee.

One evening the stupid twin went to a circus that happened to be in town. He went early so he could get a good seat in the front row, right beside the ring, and he thoroughly enjoyed the experience. He marvelled at the elephants, cowered from the lions, and gaped at the trapeze artists in their skimpy costumes; he reacted exactly the way he was meant to.

Last of all, on came the clowns. They were his favourite bit of the circus. All that falling over, all that water, all those custard pies - it was hilarious. The lead clown was the most ludicrous of the lot: he had bigger shoes, baggier trousers, brighter make-up and the most enormous red nose. And part of the lead clown's job was to make fun of people in the audience.

So the clown looked around for someone to hassle, and saw a rather stupid-looking man sitting right in the front row. Ideal. He went up to the stupid twin and said:

"Sir, are you the front end of an ass?"

The stupid man sat there wishing that he hadn't come, wishing that the clown would go away and pick on someone else. He knew he wasn't very intelligent, and he knew he would come out of this looking very foolish. But he spoke up. "No," he said.

"Sir, are you the back end of an ass?" the clown continued.

"No, I'm not," the stupid man replied.

"Then, sir," the clown said slowly, letting the audience savour the moment, "you are no end of an ass!"

The audience, having a fairly poor sense of humour, erupted into laughter. The stupid man just wished he could die. Fortunately for him, the show was soon over.

When he got home, the stupid man told his brother what had happened.

"Don't worry," said the master of ready wit and stunning repartee, "I am a master of ready wit and stunning repartee. Tomorrow night I will go to the circus and make that clown look foolish."

So the next night, the master of ready wit and stunning repartee went to the circus, and got a front row seat. Being an intelligent man, he was considerably less impressed by the sight of dumb animals being made to do tricks, although he had to admit that the trapeze artists were rather tasty.

Then the clowns came out, and the one with the biggest shoes, baggiest trousers, brightest make-up and most ludicrously over-sized nose looked around the audience for someone to make fun of. He could not believe his luck. There, sitting in the front row, was the stupid man he'd got such a laugh out of the night before. So the clown approached the master of ready wit and stunning repartee and asked:

"Sir, are you the front end of an ass?"

"No," said the master of ready wit and stunning repartee.

"Sir, are you the back end of an ass?" the clown continued.

"No, I'm not," replied the master of ready wit and stunning repartee.

"Then, sir," said the clown, "you are no end of an ass!" The crowd went wild with laughter. The joke went down even better than it had the night before, and the clown felt on top of the world.

But just then the master of ready wit and stunning repartee stood up, smiled sadistically and said:

"Fuck off you red-nosed bastard."

[Grumble]

A guy has spent five years travelling all around the world making a documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he has every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into a pub for a well earned beer.

He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about his project. The Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher Dance."

The guy’s a bit confused and says "Butcher Dance? What’s that?"

"What? You no see Butcher Dance?"

"No, I’ve never heard of it."

"Oh mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see Butcher Dance?"

"Err... I got a corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?"

"No, no, not corroborree. Butcher Dance much more important than corroborree."

"Oh, well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?" "Mate, Butcher Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher Dance."

"Look, I’ve been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance."

"OK, mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles ‘til you see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here you gotta leave car, coz much to rough for driving. You strike out due west into setting sun. You walk 3 days ‘til you hit creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2 days you find where creek flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to cross mountains here though. You now head south for half day ‘til you see pass through mountains. Pass very difficult, very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to get through rocky pass. When through, head north-west for 4 days ‘til reach big huge rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man’s head. >From rock, walk due west for 2 days and you find village. Here you see Butcher Dance."

So the guy grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a couple of hours he finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he’s forced to crawl along at a snails pace and so he doesn’t reach the tree until dusk and he’s forced to set up camp for the night.

He sets out bright and early the following morning. His spirits are high and he’s excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance which he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three days and follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains.

The merciless sun is starting to take its toll by this time and his spirits are starting to flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass through the hills - nothing will prevent him from completing his life’s dream. The mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and at times they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force their way clear and continue their long trek.

When they reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low and their feet are covered with blisters but they steel themselves and head out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives feed them and and give them fresh water and they begin to feel like new men. Once he’s recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he has come to film their Butcher Dance.

"Oh mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late.

You miss dance." "Well, when do you hold the next dance?" "Not ‘til next year." "Well, I’ve come all this way. Couldn’t you just hold an extra dance for me, tonight?"

"No, no, no! Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more, gods get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher Dance you come back next year." The guy is devastated, but he has no other option but to head back to civilisation and back home.

The following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is present to witness it.

However, right from the start things go wrong. Heavy rains that year have turned the dirt track to mud and the car gets bogged every few miles, finally forcing them to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. They reach the creek and the mountains without any further hitch, but halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck by a fierce storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements.

Then, before they have travelled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey to the rock and then the village enormously. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they have been travelling, they stagger into the village at about 12:00 noon.

"The Butcher Dance!" gasps the guy. "Please don’t tell me I’m too late!"

The chief recognises him and says "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time."

Relieved beyond measure, the crew spend the rest of the afternoon setting up their equipment - preparing to capture the night’s ritual on celluloid As dusk falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of bird’s feathers and animal skins. Once darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a huge roaring fire. A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief "What’s he doing?"

"Hush" whispers the chief. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dreamworld watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year."

The chanting of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he removes himself from the circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm.

The guy is becoming caught up in the fervour of the moment himself. This is it. He now realises beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind.

The chief strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to sing: "You butch yer left leg in. You butch yer left leg out, in, out, in, out, you shake it all about"

[bubba]

[attach]3339[/attach]

[Bent]

My wife and I don't really think in the same way.....for instance, I say tomato (toe-may-toe) and she says BOWLINGBALL (Bow-ling-ball)!!!!! Nope totally opposites.

[Flawed]

Its been almost 2 weeks, im sorry for my abcence as i know you all love my daily jokes if not my jokes then my clearly brillaint spelling skills. They are very good. ( said in suitable dead pan )

AHEM........


5 MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE

Lesson
1:
A man is getting into
the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell
rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she
opens the door, there stands Bob, the next-door
neighbor.


Before she says a word,
Bob says, 'I'll give you $800 to drop that towel,'


After thinking for a
moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob After a few
seconds, Bob hands her $800 and
leaves.


The woman wraps back up
in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets to the bathroom, her
husband asks, 'Who was
that?'


'It was Bob the next
door neighbor,' she
replies.


'Great,' the husband
says, 'did he say anything about the $800 he owes
me?'


Moral of the
story:


If you share
critical information pertaining to credit and risk with your shareholders in
time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable
exposure.





Lesson
2:


A priest offered a Nun a
lift. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg. The
priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid
his hand up her
leg.


The nun said, 'Father,
remember Psalm 129?' The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let
his hand slide up her leg
again.


The nun once again said,
'Father, remember Psalm
129?'


The priest apologized
'Sorry sister but the flesh is
weak.'


Arriving at the convent,
the nun sighed heavily and went on her
way.


On his arrival at the
church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm
129


It said, 'Go forth and
seek, further up, you will find
glory.'


Moral of the
story:


If you are not well
informed in your job, you might miss a great
opportunity.




Lesson
3:


A sales rep, an
administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an
antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes
out.


The Genie says, 'I'll
give each of you just one
wish.'


'Me first! Me first!'
says the admin clerk. 'I want to be in the Bahamas , driving a speedboat,
without a care in the
world.'


Puff! She's
gone.


'Me next! Me next!' says
the sales rep. 'I want to be in Hawaii, relaxing on the beach with my personal
masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my
life.'


Puff! He's
gone.


'OK, you're up,' the
Genie says to the
manager.


The manager says, 'I
want those two back in the office after
lunch.'


Moral of the
story:


Always let your
boss have the first
say.



Lesson
4
An eagle was sitting on
a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him,
'Can I also sit like you and do
nothing?'


The eagle answered: '
Sure , why
not.'


So, the rabbit sat on
the ground below the eagle and
rested.


All of a sudden, a fox
appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate
it.


Moral of the
story:


To be sitting and
doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high
up.




Lesson
5


A turkey was chatting
with a bull. 'I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree,' sighed
the turkey, 'but I haven't got the
energy.'


'Well, why don't you
nibble on some of my droppings?' replied the bull. 'They're packed with
nutrients.'


The turkey pecked at a
lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the
lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he
reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was
proudly perched at the top of the
tree.


He was promptly spotted
by a farmer, who shot him out of the
tree.


Moral of the
story:


BullShit might get
you to the top, but it won't keep you
there.



Lesson
6


A little bird was flying
south for the Winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground
into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some
dung on
him.


As the frozen bird lay
there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was. The dung
was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began
to sing for
joy.


A passing cat heard the
bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered
the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate
him.


Morals of the
story:


(1) Not everyone
who shits on you is your
enemy.


(2) Not everyone
who gets you out of shit is your
friend.


(3) And when you're
in deep shit, it's best to keep your mouth
shut!




THIS ENDS THE 5-MINUTE
MANAGEMENT
COURSE

[Zanth13]

A woman was away on a buisness trip for a week, when she returned home her son ran up to her exitedly..
"mommy,mommy me and daddy had so much fun while you were gone"

"what did you do dear"

"every day daddy would take me swimming, I would swim from the center of the lake back to shore....the hard part was getting out of the plastic bag"

:eek: :eek:

[Flawed]

Ahem.........again!:

Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix:

The professor told his class one day: "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth.

Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students: Rebecca and Gary.

THE STORY:

(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A. S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish partice beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mother ship launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm
going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)
As*shole.

(Gary)
B*tch

(Rebecca)
F__K YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)
Go drink some tea - whore.

(TEACHER)
A+ - I really liked this one

[Thelomen Toblerone]

Q: How are Saddam Hussein and Little Miss Muffet the same?

A: They both had kurds (curds) in their way (whey)!


One of those that works better spoken.

[Grumble]

Late last Saturday night; a young chap was walking home from a club.

It was a cold, wet, windy evening, and he was tired and freezing.

Most of the streetlights in the area were broken, and the silence was only broken by the occasional sound of a stray cat sifting through a dustbin.


Then suddenly he heard a strange noise.......



BUMP........





BUMP........





BUMP........




Startled by this, he turned, and to his amazement, through the driving rain, he saw the faint outline of a large box turning into his road.





BUMP........





BUMP........





BUMP........




He froze to the spot, he couldn't believe his eyes, as the box approached from the shadows, he was able to make out its shape more clearly....

It was a coffin

Not wanting anything to do with this, he put his head down and started walking briskly home.





BUMP........





BUMP........




BUMP........




He could feel the coffin gaining on him, he started walking faster...........




BUMP........BUMP.......




BUMP........BUMP.......




BUMP........BUMP........





The coffin was closing with his every step, he started to jog, but he heard the coffin speed up after him......




BUMP........BUMP...BUMP...




BUMP........BUMP...BUMP...




BUMP........BUMP...BUMP...





He started to sprint, but so did the coffin .......




BUMP...BUMP...BUMP...BUMP.....



BUMP...BUMP...BUMP...BUMP.....



BUMP...BUMP...BUMP...BUMP.....





Eventually he made it to his front door, but he knew the coffin was only seconds behind. Fumbling around in his pocket, he pulled out his keys, his hand trembling, he managed to open the lock, he dived inside slamming the front door behind him.

He shot into his front room, and slumped into his comfy chair.
Suddenly there was a loud crash, as the coffin smashed its way through the front door.

The force of the impact broke the lock off the coffin allowing the lid to swing freely on its rusty hinges as it continued its chase.....




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...





In horror the young lad fled again, as fast as his shaking legs could take him he bolted upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door........




BUMP...SCREECH...HOP...BUMP...SCREECH...HOP...




BUMP...SCREECH...HOP...BUMP...SCREECH...HOP...




BUMP...SCREECH...HOP...BUMP...SCREECH...HOP...






The coffin again gave chase up the stairs, across the landing and launched itself at the bathroom door. With an almighty smash, the bathroom door flew off its hinges.....

The coffin stood in the doorway, then started to approach the young terrified lad.



BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...





In a last ditch attempt to save his skin, he reached for his bathroom cabinet......

He grabbed a bar of Imperial Leather soap and threw it at the coffin.........still it came ........




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




He grabbed his can of Lynx deodorant and threw it .....still it came




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




He grabbed his first aid kit and threw it ......still it came......




BUMP...SCREECH...BUMP...SCREECH...




He grabbed some Benylin cough mixture and threw it........












The coffin stopped.

[Grumble]

Lost in the Desert


So, there’s a man crawling through the desert.

He’d decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn’t get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he’d paid attention to the sun and thought he’d figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he’d be back to the small town he’d gotten gas in last.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he’s afraid that he’ll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he’d had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he’s really thirsty. He’s been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He’s reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket
is really getting tempting now. He knows that it’s mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to
it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he’s been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn’t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn’t remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he’s close, and that after dark he’ll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that’ll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they’re full of sand. He so thirsty that he can’t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He’d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn’t noticed it the night before because he’d been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn’t the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day.

He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He’s not sure. He’ll go a little farther, and if he still doesn’t find water, he’ll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you’re in trouble - usually right before heat stroke.

He decides that it’s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can’t wait any longer - if he passes out, he’s dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesn’t even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle.
He figures that since he’s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He’s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him - if he didn’t drink it, he’d die anyway. Besides, he’s pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes he’ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. He’s careful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He’s not sure if it’s fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he’s getting woozy enough and tired enough that he’s not sure what he remembers any more or if he’s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town.

He was heading for a town, wasn’t he? He thinks he was. He isn’t sure any more. He’s not even sure how long he’s been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon - it seems like it’s been too long since he started out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesn’t remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesn’t think he remembers any. This is bad.

But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that he’ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesn’t feel like getting back up - he’ll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren’t so dry, he’d laugh. He’s finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they’d be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he’s at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isn’t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough.

Again, he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. It’s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it’s dark - darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he can’t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. He’s going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that he’s in trouble - he’s not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks he’s caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadn’t just imagined it.

So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. He’d get up and walk towards it, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesn’t have water, he’ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can’t see what’s in the middle of the dark area. His eyes won’t quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he’d seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he’s no longer on sand - he’s now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it -a pattern cut into the stone. He’s too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesn’t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He’s probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then he’ll know he’s gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he’s going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what’s in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It’s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he’s hearing. He would swear that someone just said, “Greetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?�

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but it’s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He’s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn’t have the energy to get up and run away. He doesn’t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, he’s not going to be able to move from this spot.

Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. He’ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snake’s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn’t rattled yet -that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t going to die of snake bite after all.

He then remembers that he’d looked up when he’d reached the center here because he thought he’d heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didn’t have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didn’t look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe
they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and that’s why it wasn’t biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, “Hello,� but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he’s going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isn’t good. He doesn’t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out.

He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, “Hello? Is there anyone here?�

He hears, from his side, “Greetings. What is it that you want?�

He turns his head, back towards the snake. That’s where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help.

“Please,� he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, “I’d love to not be thirsty any more. I’ve been a long time without water. Can you help me?�

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, “Very well. Coming up.�

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He’s momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes -they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake.

“It’ll feel better in a minute.� He looks up - it’s the snake talking. He hadn’t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he’s not dizzy any more. And more importantly, he’s not thirsty any more - at all!

“Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?�

“Sorry about that, but I had to bite you,� says the snake. “That’s the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine.�

“You bit me to help me? Why aren’t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I haven’t had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid… hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?�

“No,� says the snake, “I’m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didn’t give you a drink. I bit you. That’s how it works - it’s what I do. I bite. I don’t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here.�

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn’t, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst.

“I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request,� continued the snake. “I can guess why you drank it, but I’m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It’ll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it.�

“Ummm, n-next request?� said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

“That’s the way it works. If you like, that is,� explained the snake. “You get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish.� The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

“But there are rules,� the snake continued. “The first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility.� The snake looks at the man seriously.

“By the way,� the snake says suddenly, “my name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me ‘Snake’. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn’t stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish.� Again, the snake grinned. “Sorry if I don’t offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds
somewhat threatening.� The snake give his rattle a little shake.

“Umm, my name is Jack,� said the man, trying to absorb all of this. “Jack Samson.

“Can I ask you a question?� Jack says suddenly. “What happened to the poison…umm, in your bite. Why aren’t I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by that’s how you work?�

“That’s more than one question,� grins Nate. “But I’ll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question.� The snake’s grin gets wider. “Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. That’s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but ‘any more’ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn’t need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. You’ve been changed.

“For the third question,� Nate continues, “you are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, you’re a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is.� Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

“As for the fourth question,� Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, “first you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can’t tell you.�

“Wait,� joked Jack, “isn’t this where you say you could tell me, but you’d have to kill me?�

“I thought that was implied.� Nate continued to look serious.

“Ummm…yeah.� Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. “So, what is this ‘Bound by Secrecy’ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?� Jack thought for a second. “And, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?�

“They may, I don’t really know,� said Nate. “I haven’t gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?�

“Yeah, they do,� said Jack.

“I figured,� replied Nate. “As for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You won’t be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. You’ll be bound to secrecy. Of course, I’ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I’m guessing that you’re a man of your word, you’ll never test the binding anyway, so you won’t notice.� Nate said the last part with utter confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. “Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?�

Well, Jack,� said Nate sadly, “I can’t tell you that, unless you make the second request.� Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.

“Umm, well, ok,� said Jack, “what is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?�

“Sure!� said Nate, brightening. “You’re allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. They’re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I can’t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldn’t be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion.� Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him.

“Well, anyway,� continued Nate, “I’d probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you’d be immune to most poisons and diseases, and you’d tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And you’ll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me.�

“Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?� said Jack. “And keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesn’t sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I can’t ask to be rich, right? Because that’s not really a change to me?�

“Right,� nodded Nate.

“Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?� Jack asked, hopefully.

“That takes two requests, Jack.�

“Yeah, I figured so,� said Jack. “But I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?�

“Well, I could make you very smart,� admitted Nate, “but that wouldn’t necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldn’t necessarily make you the best athlete either. You’ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there’s some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can’t make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it.�

“Hmmm,� said Jack. “Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?�

“Maybe,� said Nate, “it depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes.� Nate looked like he’d shrug, if he had shoulders.

“Ok, well, since I’d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesn’t sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?�

“No,� said Nate. “Just hold out your hand. Or heel.� Nate grinned. “Or whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, that’s how it works - the poison, you know,� Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didn’t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk it’s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldn’t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Hey, Jack,� Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, “is that someone else coming up over there?�

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate…

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans…

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. “I would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn’t have to
hoodwink me like that.�

“I’ve been doing this a long time, Jack,� said Nate, confidently. “You humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it’s only been a couple of minutes and it already doesn’t hurt any more, does it? That’s because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that you’d heal quickly now.�

“Yeah, well, still,� said Jack, “it’s the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn’t you have gotten my calf or something instead?�

“More meat in the typical human butt,� replied Nate. “And less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second.�

“Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear,� answered Jack.

“Ok,� said Nate. “Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?�

“Just talk,� said Jack. “I’ll sit here and try to not think about food.�

“We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,� answered Nate.

“Hey! You didn’t tell me you had food around here, Nate!� Jack jumped up. “What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?� Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

“I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is,� replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to.

“Ugh,� said Jack, sitting back down. “I think I’ll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And there’s nothing to burn - I’d have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk.�

“Ok,� replied Nate, still grinning. “But I’d better hurry, before you start looking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. “You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden.�

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically.

“Well, that’s the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack,� said Nate. “Stand up and look at the symbol on the rock here.� Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished he’d looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. “In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate,� said Jack. “Which way is it back to town? And how far? I’m eventually going to have to head back - I’m not sure I’ll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, I’m not sure I’ll want to.�

“It’s about 30 miles that way.� Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way he’d been going when he was crawling here. “But that’s 30 miles by the way the crow flies. It’s about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack.�

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. “Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?�

“Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway,� said Nate. “He figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a ‘tree’, offering ‘temptations’, making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while.�

“Garden of Eden, hunh?� said Jack. “How long have you been here, Nate?�

“No idea, really,� replied Nate. “A long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it’s been thousands of years, at least.�

“So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?� said Jack.

“Beats me,� said Nate. “Maybe. I can’t remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a ‘temptation’, though I’ve rarely had refusals.�

“Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?� asked Jack.

“Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don’t remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. I’ve been here ever since.

“What is this place?� said Jack. “And what did he ask you to do?�

“Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?� Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way.

“You can’t touch that yet, Jack,� said Nate.

“Why not?� asked Jack.

“I haven’t explained it to you yet,� replied Nate.

“Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something,� said Jack. “You’d push it that way, and it would move in the slot.�

“Yep, that’s what it is,� replied Nate.

“What does it do?� asked Jack. “End the world?�

“Oh, no,� said Nate. “Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it ‘The Lever of Doom’.� For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate’s pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. “Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?�

“Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said,� smirked Nate. “I just thought the voice I used was funny, didn’t you?�

Nate continued to grin.

“A lever to end humanity?� asked Jack. “What in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?�

“Well,� replied Nate, “I get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. I’m not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it’s here. I didn’t think to ask back when I started here.�

“Rules? What rules?� asked Jack.

“The rules are that I can’t tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. That’s it.� explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. “You mean that I could pull the lever now? You’d let me end humanity?�

“Yep,� replied Nate, “if you want to.� Nate looked at Jack carefully. “Do you want to, Jack?�

“Umm, no.� said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. “Why in the world would anyone want to end humanity? It’d take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldn’t it?�

“Yep,� replied Nate, “being as he’d be human too.�

“Has anyone ever seriously considered it?� asked Nate. “Any of those bound to secrecy, that is?�

“Well, of course, I think they’ve all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so I’m told. Samuel considered it several times. He’d often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn’t be here.� Nate grinned some more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, “So this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?�

“That seems to be it,� agreed Nate.

“What kind of criteria do I use to decide?� said Jack. “How do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if they’re good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that they’re going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?�

“Nope,� replied Nate. “You pretty much just have to decide on your own. It’s up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you’re just supposed to know.�

“But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldn’t I make a mistake? How do I know that I won’t screw up?� protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. “You don’t. You just have to try your best, Jack.�

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. “Nate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?�

“Yep,� replied Nate. “He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago.�

“Sounds like a good guy,� agreed Jack. “How did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?�

“Well,� said Nate, “he sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like you’re doing.�

“What did he ask you, if you’re allowed to tell me?� asked Jack.

“He asked me about the third request,� replied Nate.

“Aha!� It was Jack’s turn to grin. “And what did you tell him?�

“I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you’ll come here and end it. You won’t avoid it, and you won’t wimp out.� Nate looked serious again. “And you’ll be bound to do it too, Jack.�

“Hmmm.� Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

“Nate,� continued Jack, quietly, eventually. “What did Samuel ask for with his third request?�

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, “Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him.�

“Ok,� said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, “give it to me.

Nate looked at Jack’s backside. “Give you what, Jack?�

“Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe it’ll help me too.� Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. “It did help him, right?�

“He said it did,� replied Nate. “But he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about.�

“Well, yeah, I can see that,� said Jack. “So, give it to me.� Jack turned toface away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

“You remember that you’ll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?� asked Nate, shifting position.

“Yeah, yeah, I got that,� replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate’s voice.

“And,� continued Nate, from his new position, “do you remember that you’ll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?�

“Yeah, yeah…Hey, wait a minute!� said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. “Purple?!� He didn’t see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate’s “Just Kidding!� right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he’d been recently bitten.

Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert night’s air the only sign that he was still awake.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

“Nate, do accidents count?�

Nate lifted his head a little bit. “What do you mean, Jack?�

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. “You know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?�

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it does, Jack. I’d suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly,� said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - “Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?� asked Jack.

“That’s the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it,� answered Nate.

“No,� Jack shook his head, “I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?�

“Yes, those should work,� replied Nate. “Though I’m not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he’d build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldn’t be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared.�

“Wow,� said Jack, “Cool.� Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

“Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?� asked Jack.

“Yes,� replied Nate, “it was. He lived 167 years, Jack.�

“Wow, 167 years. That’s almost 140 more years I’ll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?�

“He died of getting tired of living, Jack,� Nate said, sounding somewhat sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. “Samuel knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay in society. He figured that they’d eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that he’d have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasn’t very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.

“His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didn’t stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me he’d had enough. It was his time.�

“And then he just died?� asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. “He made his forth request, Jack. There’s only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, “He told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had.

After another pause, Nate finished, “Samuel’s body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise.�

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jack’s breathing evened out into sleep.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn’t willing to eat raw desert rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that he’d be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nate’s good directions, he made it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate’s lever, though their path back didn’t come within sight of it.

Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn’t unheard of, and shouldn’t really raise suspicions.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that he’d be back again soon, but that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he ‘d been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didn’t seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jack’s best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn’t been able to replace Samuel in Nate’s eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didn’t even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nate’s silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. “Jack, I have someone to introduce you to.�

Jack looked surprised. “Someone to introduce me to?� Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. “This something to do with the Big Guy?

“No, no,� replied Nate. “This is more personal. I want you to meet my son.� Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. “Sammy!�

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

“Yo, Jack,� said the new, much smaller snake.

“Yo, Sammy� replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. “Named after Samuel, I assume?�

Nate nodded. “Jack, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?� Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. “When Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.

“He’s seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that it’s not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?�

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn’t even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. “Yeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?� Jack could sense that was something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, “Oh, yeah. Ummm, I’ve gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!� Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. “Jack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don’t even want to know what it took for me to find a mate.� Nate grinned to himself. “But anyway, I had a son for a reason. I’m tired. I’m ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement.�

Jack considered this for a minute. “So, you’re ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?�

Nate shook his head. “No, Jack - you’re a better guesser than that. You’ve already figured out - I’m bound here - there’s only one way for me to leave here. And I’m ready. It’s my time to die.�

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuel’s decision, and now Nate’s. So, all Jack said was, “What do you want me to do?�

Nate nodded. “Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until he’s ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

“I can’t just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won’t even die of old age like you eventually will, even though it’ll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I’ll be able to die. And I need you to kill me.

“I’ve even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won’t work on me. And I’ve seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so that’s out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. “I’d say an axe, but that’s somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me.

“You willing to do that for me, Jack?� Nate turned back to look at Jack.

“Yeah, Nate,� replied Jack solemnly, “I think I can handle that.�

Nate nodded. “Good!� He turned back toward the dune and shouted, “Sammy! Jack’s about ready to leave!� Then quietly, “Thanks, Jack.�

Jack didn’t have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following. Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general.

When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He’d come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didn’t want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.

So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn’t have a foot) and told Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he’d learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate.

When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.

When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when he’d met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn’t really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he’d forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They’d either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark.

As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that he’d go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight.

Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert.

Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didn’t really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he’d decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jack’s driving.

As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he’d gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side.

Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn’t have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster.

Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didn’t do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity.

Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn’t working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldn’t have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away.

Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. He’d have to time his turn just right.

The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadn’t seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn’t wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side.

Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing.

Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, “BETTER NATE THAN LEVER,� he ran over the snake.

THE END :eek:

[Sir Thursday]

THAT WAS AMAZING!

Love it.



Sir Thursday

[Coco with marshmallows]

you bastard!

you just stole about 20 mins of my life.

give them back you lousy git.

ah well, have rep anyways.

[bubba]

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Woops....... where did that come from?...sorry.....hee.hhe