Whatever

Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. 'Good morning, madam. You don't know me but I've come to....'

'Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you,' Mrs. Smith cut in.

'Really ?' the photographer asked. 'Well, good! I've made a specialty of babies.'

'That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat. Just where do we start?' asked Mrs. Smith, blushing.

'Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out.'

'Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work for Harry and me.'

'Well, madam, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results.'

'I hope we can get this over with quickly,' gasped Mrs. Smith.

'Madam, in my line of work, a man must take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but you'd be disappointed with that, I'm sure.'

'Don't I know!' Mrs. Smith exclaimed. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. 'This was done on the top of a bus in downtown London.'

'Oh my god!!', Mrs. Smith exclaimed, tugging at her handkerchief.

'And these twins turned out exceptionally well when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.' The photographer handed Mrs. Smith the picture.
'She was difficult ?' asked Mrs. Smith.
'Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to Hyde Park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep, pushing to get a good look.'

'Four and five deep?' asked Mrs. Smith, eyes widened in amazement.

'Yes,' the photographer said.

'And for more than three hours too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling. I could hardly concentrate. Then darkness approached and I began to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just packed it all in.' Mrs. Smith leaned forward.

'You mean they actually chewed on your, eh......equipment ?'

'That's right. Well madam, if you're ready, I'll set up my tripod so that we can get to work.'

'Tripod??', Mrs. Smith looked extremely worried now.

'Oh yes, I have to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big for me to hold while I'm getting ready for action. Madam ? Madam?..... Good Lord, she's fainted!'

"Duke!" the dad yelled.

"This is great!" the boy thought. "He thinks the dog is farting!" So he let out another one.

"Duke!" the father barked. The boy thought he was homefree so he let everything out at once in a really loud and smelly fart.

"Duke! Get out of there before the boy sh*ts on you!"

The next day the local paper carried this headline: PREACHER'S ASS SHOWS. The preacher was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and this time it won. The paper read: PREACHER'S ASS OUT IN FRONT. The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the preacher not to enter the donkey in another race. The paper headline read: BISHOP SCRATCHES PREACHER'S ASS. This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the preacher to get rid of the donkey. The preacher decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent. The paper headline the next day read: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN. The Bishop fainted. He informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10.00.

The next day the headline read: NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.00. This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey, lead it to the plains, and let it go. Next day, the headline in the paper read: NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE. The Bishop was buried the next day.

"Hey," says the Navyman, "in the Navy they teach us to wash our hands."

"In the Marines, they teach us not to piss on our hands."