Weekend Funnies 10
February 10, 2001
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WHAT PANDAS REALLY EAT A panda bear walks into a cafe and orders a sandwich and a drink. After he is finished eating, the waiter comes over to bring him the check. When the waiter arrives at the table, he just starts to ask "Would you like any des..." Then the panda reaches into his fur, pulls out a gun, and shoots the waiter dead. He wipes off his chin with his napkin, gets up, and starts to walk out. Just as he is about to go through the door, the manager grabs him. "Wait a minute!" he yells, "You just killed my best waiter! Besides that, you didn't even pay for your sandwich!" The panda grasps the manager by the throat, lifts him up, and growls, "Hey man! I'm a PANDA! Do you know what that means? Why don't you look it up!" At this the Panda walks out the door and ambles down the street. The manager, shaken, returns to his office and consults a dictionary. He reads: "Panda - a large mammal of the Asian mountain forests related to raccoons and true bears and characterized by bold black and white markings. Eats shoots and leaves."
The Portrait A clever elderly woman decided to have her portrait painted. So she told the artist, "Paint me with diamond earrings, a diamond necklace, an emerald bracelet, and a gold Rolex." "But you're not wearing any of those things!" the artist pointed out. "I know," she said. "It's in case I die before my husband. If he remarries right away, I want his new wife to go crazy looking for the jewelry."
The Cookies An elderly man lay dying in his bed. In death's agony, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven: there, spreads out upon newspapers on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted; the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth; seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand, shakingly, made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. "Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral."
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