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  1. #1

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    Join Date
    Feb 2005

    The Old Gas Station

    The Old Gas Station
    Author Unknown

    The service station trade was slow.
    The owner sat around,
    With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
    Piled shavings on the ground.

    No modern facilities had they,
    The log across the rill
    Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
    That sat against the hill.

    "Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
    The owner leaning back,
    Said not a word but whittled on,
    And nodded toward the shack.

    With quickened step she entered there
    But only stayed a minute,
    Until she screamed, just like a snake
    Or spider might be in it.

    With startled look and beet red face
    She bounded through the door,
    And headed quickly for the car.
    Just like three gals before.

    She tripped and fell -- got up,
    and then In obvious disgust,
    Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
    And faded in the dust.

    Of course we all desired to know
    What made the gals all do
    The things they did, and then we found
    The whittling owner knew.
    A speaking system he'd devised
    To make the thing complete,
    He tied a speaker on the wall
    Beneath the toilet seat.

    He'd wait until the gals got set
    And then the devilish guy,
    Would stop his whittling long enough,
    To speak into the mike.

    And as she sat, a voice below
    Struck terror, fright and fear
    "Will you please use the other hole,
    We're painting under here"

  2. #2

      MiceChat Moderator
    • Where should we go next?
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    Join Date
    Apr 2005
    Now a WDW Local!
    Blog Entries
    Good morning, son
    In twenty years from now
    Maybe we'll both sit down and have a few beers
    And I can tell you 'bout today
    And how I picked you up and everything changed
    It was pain
    Sunny days and rain
    I knew you'd feel the same things...

  3. #3

    • /sigh
    • Offline

    Join Date
    Jan 2005
    In your dreams
    Very cute!
    Marge: Barnacle Bill's Home Pregnancy Test? Homer, shouldn't we have gone with a better-known brand?
    Homer: But Marge, this one came with a corn-cob pipe!
    Marge: [reading from the test box] "Ahoy, Maties! If the water turns blue, a baby for you! If purple ye see, no baby thar be!"
    Homer: So, which is it? Blue or purple?
    Marge: Pink.
    Homer: D'oh!
    Marge: "If ye test should fail, to a doctor set sail!"

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