"I shall have to put you fellows in the same room," said the hotel keeper.
"That's all right," the guests replied.
"Well, I think," said the host, "you'll have a comfortable night. It's a featherbed."
At two o'clock in the morning one of the guests awoke his companion.
"Change places with me, Dick," he groaned. "It's my turn to lie on the feather."
I accidentally rubbed ketchup in my eye.
In Heinzsight, I shouldn't have done that.
Two lady school teachers from Brooklyn, spending their sabbatical year exploring western Canada, stopped at a small and old-fashioned hotel in Alberta recently.
One of the pair was inclined to be worrisome when traveling, and she couldn't rest until she had made a tour of the corridors to hunt out exits in case of fire. The first door she opened, unfortunately, turned out to be that of the public bath, occupied by an elderly gentleman taking a shower.
"Oh, excuse me!" the lady stammered, flustered. "I'm looking for the fire escape." Then she ran for it.
To her dismay, she hadn't got far along the corridor when she heard a shout behind her and, looking around, saw the gentleman, wearing only a towel, running after her.
"Where's the fire?!" he hollered.
While watching the tv show "Sisters", my then 5 year old daughter was having a hard time understanding how one sister was expecting a baby but the baby belonged to a different sister.
After explaining to her that the egg from one sister was placed inside the body of the expectant sister, she then asked, "Does the egg have shells?"