Read Short Stories To Tickle Your Funnybone for Free Online Page B

the cork and poured
the bubbly.
    He raised his glass. “A toast to my son and
his lovely bride. First, let me say how proud I am
to have a son like you. I wasn’t a good dad, and I
know it. You probably turned out better than if I
was around. I weren’t a good husband, neither, so
I hope you learned from my mistakes and take
good care of this special lady.”
    After his brief lapse into morality, Dad
reverted to his usual self. “At least I didn’t name
you Sue,” he said. He proceeded to tie tin cans to
Vince’s back bumper and placed a “Getting
Hitched” sign in the back window.
    Then came the airport jokes.
The
professor
blessed
us
with
the
Confucius classic, “Man who fly upside down
have big crack up.”
Jerry, not to be outdone, droned, “A
vulture was boarding an airplane with two dead
raccoons. He was stopped at the gangway by a
flight attendant. ‘I’m sorry, sir; only one carrion
per passenger.’”
Once the toasting, joking, hugging, and
crying were dispensed with, we stowed the bags
and headed to the Three Trails to pick up Mary.
As expected, she was waiting for us on the
porch with—yikes!—four huge suitcases.
“Mary! What’s all of this?”
“It’s my stuff. We’re gonna be gone for
three weeks, and I gotta have my stuff.”
She
had more
than the rest of us put
together.
“One bag, Mary. That’s it.”
“Hell, I can’t get my underwear in just one
bag.”
I looked at Maggie. “This is your
department. I don’t know about women’s things,
but we’ve gotta have a shakedown.”
Maggie and Mary took the bags inside, and
after a prolonged struggle peppered with language
that would have made a sailor blush, they emerged
with one suitcase that probably weighed eighty
pounds. I
decided at that point
to utilize
the
curbside checkin. The skycaps aren’t as fussy
about weight if the tip is big enough.
Willie
had been unusually quiet, and I
noticed on the forty-five-minute drive
to the
airport that he sat rigid, fists clenched, staring
straight ahead. Instead of enjoying the trip to a
tropical paradise, he
was experiencing
what I
would imagine a convict would feel on his way to
the gas chamber.
We arrived at the airport, and after a bit of
wrangling with the skycap and a huge tip, we
made our way to the gate.
Naturally, the line
extended down
the
hallway.
I
took this opportunity
to educate
our
novice flyers on the security procedures instituted
after 9/11.
“You means I got to undress befo’ de let
me on de plane?” Willie said.
“Well, not everything, just your belt and
shoes and anything metal in your pockets.”
Maggie and I went first to show Willie and
Mary how it was done.
No problems.
Willie was next, and I heard him mutter,
“Dis is worse dan when I went to visit Louie de
Lip in county lockup.”
Three down, and one to go.
Mary placed her enormous purse on the
conveyor and stepped through the metal detector.
Brring! The detector lit up like a Christmas
tree.
“Ma’am, would you step over here
please?”
Mary followed the slender TSA matron to
a small cubicle.
“Please stand on those footprints and raise
your arms.”
So far so good. Mary hadn’t threatened
anyone yet.
The TSA gal grabbed a wand and started
running it over Mary’s body. No problem until she
put the thing between Mary’s legs.
“Hey, girlfriend. You making a porno
movie or something? Hey! Get that thing out of
my—”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Walt, this skanky bitch is poking my
doodah with that dildo!”
“It’s okay, Mary. She’s just doing her job.”
The TSA gal ran the wand up Mary’s
torso. The wand came to life as it passed over
Mary’s chesticles.
“Ma’am, do you have anything metal on
your body?” She laid the wand down and started
feelingaround Mary’s protruding breasts.
“Walt! Now she’s feeling me up.” Then
she addressed the TSA matron. “Of course I got
on something metal. You don’t think these babies
perk out like that on their own, do you?