Roly: Knock, knock!
Poly: Who’s there?
Poly: I’m sorry, I do not know a Boris.
Roly: … No. You are supposed to say, “Boris who?”.
Poly: Why are you trying to tell me what to do?
Roly: This is just a joke.
Poly: I don’t think this is very funny.
Roly: Will you please just play along?
Poly: No. I don’t know who you are Boris. Why would I trust you? Are you Russian mafia?
Roly: What? No! Why would you even…
Poly: I bet you are Russian mafia.
Roly: Would you just calm down?
Poly: No, you calm down.
Roly: Listen, this was supposed to be fun.
Poly: Fun for who? You?!
Roly: Why are you being so crazy?!
Poly: (Tazes Roly.) Who’s crazy now, Boris? Jokes on you. (Walks away leaving his lifelong friend, Roly, in a convulsing heap.)
Posts Tagged ‘laugh’
Roly: Knock, knock!
When I was a kid, my best friend Chris and I were always laughing. We spent so much time together and most of that time was either preparing to laugh, laughing or recovering from laughing. I learned the hard way that there are times you should not laugh. I should have listened to my dad.
We were at McDonald’s. My mom, my dad, Chris and I placed our orders. Chris and I were causing a scene by taunting a Ronald McDonald statue that was gesturing to their current Happy Meal toys. I am sure the toys were cool, because back in the day you could get good stuff like C4 or puppets.
Our meal was placed on a brown tray. At that time, our burgers came in those environmentally friendly styrofoam clam shell cases. They worked nicely for accommodating your burger on one side and your fries on the other. They also worked nicely for still being around today in some landfill. So we took our food to our table, Chris and I were still goofing around and then my dad said, “You boys need to simmer down or somebody is going to choke on their food.”
I laughed it off behind my straight face and then began to dig into my food. Chris and I were flirting with disaster as everything became hilarious. We almost broke into hysterics a few times but a cutting glance from my dad snuffed the fire.
The last thing I remember before being forever scarred was a long sip of Sprite. As my mouth was filled to capacity, Chris let loose a zinger – then it happened. I started to choke. I tried to swallow and laugh at the same time, but that apparently is physiologically impossible. I was choking and staring at my Big Mac nestled safely in its plastic nest. Then — I vomited. All over my burger and fries. Thank goodness for those deep styrofoam clam shell cases.
My dad jumped up, smacked Chris in the head and in the same motion grabbed my arm. He dragged me to the bathroom as onlookers were frozen mid-bite watching me go by — a very sad and gross little parade.
So let that be a lesson. Listen to your dad — and don’t eat at McDonald’s on a regular basis. It can’t be good for you.