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       Eighteen Stories With A Touch Of Humor, p.1

           Mario V. Farina
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Eighteen Stories With A Touch Of Humor
Eighteen Stories With A

  Touch Of Humor

  By

  Mario V. Farina

  Copyright 2016 Mario V. Farina

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

  Electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information

  Storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  Correspondence may be directed to:

  Mario V. Farina

  Email: mario@mariofarina.com

  These are eighteen stories with a touch of humor. The titles of the stories are:

  Who's Shirley?

  Thou Art A Witch

  How Jeff Lost The Job

  Terrible But I Loved It

  Twenty-Four Home Groan Puns

  A Rolls With ESP

  The Woman In The Diner

  Fifteen Minutes Of Fame

  They Were Just Being Polite

  Remembering The Anniversary

  How Are The Seats?

  A First Date On A Windy Day

  Chinese Fortune Cookies

  Learning Inline Skating

  Read My Best Puns To Boggle Your Mind

  Hopping Powder

  The Great Witch Hunt In Hamlet City

  Voyage To Mars

  Note: The author of this story reads one of his stories on Youtube every day. To see and hear, open www.youtube.com and search for "Grandpa Mario reads"

  Who's Shirley?

  Marilyn and I were very much in love. We had met in college while taking courses in philosophy. We were within a couple of months of being the same age. Both of us had dated but neither had found the one they could devote the rest of their lives to.

  Upon receiving our degrees, we found jobs in the same city but in different companies. Marilyn had been hired as a doctor's research assistance and I had found a junior position as a consultant. Both of us were earning decent wages and our relationship had grown to be more than that of just daters.

  We lived in different apartments across town but would often speak of moving in together in order to save on living expenses. Something within us kept us going forward with that idea. I think it was that marriage, to us, meant more than living together for a period of time. We felt this action meant that our relationship was to be a forever thing and forever could not begin until, first, there had been commitments.

  Marilyn and I loved to joke and would often play tricks on each other. She was better at this than I. There was many a time when I'd be feeling blue for one reason or another and she'd do or say something that would cheer me up immediately.

  We loved having dinner at Olive Garden. Though meals there were not expensive, we had decided to visit there only once every two weeks, and always on a Saturday afternoon. We'd share the cost. Since we went to the same place every time, we got to know the servers well and they began recognizing us. They knew we were not married and referred to us as Marilyn and Michael. One of the servers was a young college girl name Eva. Eva had a habit, when serving, us of using the word absolutely often. We'd ask for more bread and she'd say, "absolutely," and dash off to get it. Or, we'd ask for our dessert and she'd exclaim, "absolutely," and scamper to the kitchen. Marilyn and I enjoyed referring to her as the absolutely girl.

  Being philosophers of a sort, Marilyn and I would often discuss the effects of words. The words we used, placed in various sequences, could give us information, bring tears to our eyes or make us laugh. We shared our thoughts with Eva and she laughed when we told her what we had nicknamed her.

  "I'll try to do better," she said.

  "Please don't do that, replied Marilyn. We love you just as you are. Stay as sweet as you are!" she sang the old tune. Eva promised she would.

  The servers at Olive Garden became part of the family and Marilyn and I invited her to our wedding in October. It was a simple affair at Mount Pleasant Community Church. Marilyn wore a gown that had been modified and handed down from her mother. Eva was a Maid of Honor. I wore a dark blue suit. My best man was Jerry, one of the servers at the restaurant.

  Marilyn and I had decided to spend our first night of marriage in a new apartment on Second Street. Then, we were to enjoy a two-week honeymoon at Niagara Falls. After a brief reception at the church, she and I rode in her Smart Car to our new home. Upon entering the apartment, we were surprised to see that a dinner had been prepared by the employees at Olive Garden and had been delivered for us to enjoy.

  Eva and Jerry ate with us, then left. Marilyn and I were alone!

  Time passed at it inevitably must. We sat and planned. Then, it was about ten. I was in PJs and Marilyn was in the bathroom changing to "more comfortable clothing."

  "Mike," she called out, "would you hand me my nightgown. It's on the extra chair in the dining nook." She was holding her hand and arm through a small opening in the doorway.

  "Surely, darling," I replied and walked toward the door with it.

  She suddenly withdrew her arm. There was a pause. Then,

  "Who's Shirley?" she called from the other side of the door.

  Puzzled, I responded, "There's no Shirley here."

  "You called me Shirley!" she said tartly. "Was that a mistake?"

  "Yes," I said. "I didn't mean, Shirley, I meant . . ."

  "If you didn't mean Shirley," she interrupted, "who did you mean, Alice, Helen, Trudy?" She spoke angrily.

  "No, no," I attempted. I didn't mean Shirley, I meant surely.

  There you go again! Oh?! You really meant Shirley! This is terrible! And on our wedding night!

  "No, no, these are two different girls! I mean two different names! Two different words! Let me explain!!

  She came out the door laughing. She was wearing a bathrobe. "I was just having fun!"

  You were joking, I sputtered happily, then began laughing.

  "Yes, just having some fun," she said as she took her nightgown from my hand. "Here, help me put this on!"

  "Surely. I mean, certainly, darling," I said.

  Thou Art A Witch

  We live in a world of witches. This is more of a problem in other lands than it is in the United States because we don't use archaic language here any more. But we should know more about witches anyway. Here are the facts:

  There are many witches in our country. They look like ordinary people, both men and women. There are bad witches and good witches. The bad witches can cast spells; good witches cannot do this but they can remove them where they exist.

  If you say to a person, "Thou art a witch!" there may be a reaction. If he or she is not a witch, the individual may be offended, but nothing worse is likely to happen. However, if that person is a bad witch, he or she may cast a spell upon you. The spell will be such that it may be removed only by a good witch!

  I can't emphasize how important that last paragraph is!

  In my youth I was at a diner one time after I had been reading about witches. There was a lovely blond woman serving me and I thought I'd try a new line. I said, "Thou art a witch!" The plan was that if she complained, I'd say I had yearned to be placed under her spell. As it turned out, the woman was a bad witch! She became very angry and, indeed, placed me under her spell. She turned me into a coffee cup! The picture at the front of this book shows what I looked like at that time.

  Yes, that is a picture of me at the time. I was actually a coffee cup!

  I had not expected this outcome and spent several days in this condition. But I was optimistic. Every time I'd be placed on a table and someone sat there to eat, I'd say, "Thou art a witch!" M
y hope was that a good witch would hear this and remove the spell. Most of the time the result was, simply, shock. After all, who had ever heard of a talking coffee cup?

  After a week of this unpleasant existence, a pretty woman came to have breakfast. She was alone. I said, "Thou art a witch!" I was hoping she was a good witch so that she could remove the spell.

  "Yes," she responded. "I am a good witch." I was overjoyed and begged, "Would you please make me human again?" She was willing but in no hurry. She wanted to know more about me. We had a pleasant chat, which was interrupted only when the server, a kindly-looking older woman, came to take the her order. I had found out a lot of good things about the young woman, but all she knew about me, up to that point, was that I was a coffee cup.

  We continued our conversation, and I got the feeling that when I was a human again, we could take our relationship up to the next step. Eggs and bacon were delivered to her and she enjoyed this but I had nothing but coffee.

  After the good witch had eaten, she changed me back to a human. At that time, I found myself sitting opposite her. We continued to chat. At the end, we exchanged telephone numbers and she left. The server came back and stared at me. "I didn't see you come in," she said. "How could she have?" I thought. I had been there all the while as a coffee cup!

  I found this a little amusing and was chortling a little too loudly.

  "What's so funny?" she asked.

  I was laughing by this time, and I said through my tears of laughter, "I was thinking about the time I said something I shouldn't have and got turned into a coffee cup!"

  "What on earth did you say?" the server asked.

  "Thou art a witch!" I replied

  The woman's countenance took on a severe appearance "That was nasty!" she growled as she turned me back to a coffee cup.

  How Jeff Lost The Job

  This a copy of a letter that Jeff Bradley wrote Al Frieden, Manager of Human Resources at Williams Publishing Company.

  Dear Mr. Freiden:

  Thank you fore considering me for the position of General Topics Editor in you’re company. I am hitherto presenting the writen document you requested concerning my qualifications for it’s position.

  For a number of years I had went to many conferences conserning writing techniques and had gave advise on this topic too whomever asked. In addition, I done critiques on papers that other’s have subjected to me. Its always been my disire to help buding awthors. I have had long experience in understanding writen material and I had wrote many a paper on this topic. I had ran workshops dedicated to good writing and everything. I had spoke at conferences and, at times. I had even took documents home to reed, examine, correct, and whatnot. Basicaly, when I worked on them documents, there was alot of improvement.

  The thing is, basicaly, I have several manners of expresing myself, you know. I mean, from the time I was a child, OK, I was interested in the writen word. Pretty much, I seen the way that others had wrote and was appailed, OK. I mean, it was always at the tip of my mind, you know. To be perfectly honest, others around me did not appreciate my efforts, right, but I prosisted. I remember, you know, two persons especialy. These were James and Janet Caldwell. Its good, you know, that I tell you about this because him and her were always trying to get polished. Do you know what I mean? I mean, it was dificult helping them.

  I had a freind named George. Me and George were trying to loose weight at the time. Me and him would go to a restarant and talked about good writing. We watched our colories. Frankly, I can say that over a period of time, I have ate all kinds of diet food. But geting back to my qualifications, me and him did not always agree. His girlfreind would join us at times. The thing is, her and him did not care for my sugestions.

  In the begining, I didn’t know nothing about editing or grammur. Now, I have no trouble with these topics. One of my objectives are never to do nothing to cause no confusion. George, on the other hand, don’t have no aptitude for good comunication. Being very frank, I can honestly tell you without interrogation that him don’t know nothing about grammor. I asked him the other day why don’t him try to learn how to talk beter. “George,” I said, “Why doesn’t you talk beter?” He seen I was sirious but don’t say nothing. Long story, short, you can see that I am eager to be of help and all that stuff. But me and him just don’t seem to have no agreement on this. Breifly statid, hes a looser.

  One day, he come and, like, was exorbitantly angry. He goes, “Why don’t you do nothing to help me?” I, like, was surprised, and I go, “I try to asist you all the time.” Him goes, “me and you doesn’t agree on nothing.” Him, like, looks upset, distorted, or whatever. Me? I guess I look abjectly, to. Truthfuly, I have did alot fore for him and tried to help both he and his girlfreind, but him and her have never expropriated any thanks. All this have caused me a lot of duress but I’m geting over it. Their is litle doubt that there not able to express they're expreciation fore nothing.

  I hope I have ben able to obfuscate clearly why I diserve the job of Editor. You can see that I learned alot about grammer in my life, and I’m, like a good candidate, you know, for the job, OK? Do you understand what I’m saying? I can start at you’re earliest inconvenience and would like to here from you.

  Your’s Truly,

  Jeff Bradley

  Terrible But I Loved It!

  Jerry and Laura Thornton had been married for well over a year. It needs to be said that the marriage had been, and was. a happy one! Jerry was an ideal husband. Not only did he love Laura deeply but he cared for her greatly. So, to a casual observer, it would not have been a surprise when he woke one day with an idea firmly ingrained in his mind. On this day, he must do something special for the love of his life! No, it wasn't Valentine's Day; it wasn't her birthday; it was not an anniversary. It was just an ordinary day, a Saturday, but nothing special about this Saturday!

  The fact that this was just an ordinary day, made it all the more important that the something special that he had in mind was needed. When a husband does something special for his wife, it needs to be on an ordinary day, he thought; otherwise, there would be nothing special about something special being done on a special day!

  Laura would be visiting her sister on this day. He had several hours during which the something special that he wanted to do could be done. But, what could he do today that would make the day special for Laura?

  Sitting at the computer in the den, he made a list. It had eight entries. From top to bottom, he rejected all the entries on the list except the last one. This was to write a poem for his wife. There was no time to be lost.

  He finished just in time. The time he had had for the poem had been just enough. When he heard Laura car arriving home, he printed what he had done. He signed his name at the bottom of the sheet, folded it, and placed it in an envelope. There was no need to seal it; he tucked the flap inside, and placed the envelope on the keyboard of Laura's computer which was located a short distance from his.

  Laura walked into the room. She smiled happily when seeing Jerry. She bent her head to where he was sitting and kissed him warmly on the lips. She turned to her computer and, spotting the envelope, picked it up and withdrew the sheet inside. While still standing, she read what Jerry had written.

  This was the poem she read:

  Laura, Darling

  I wanted to do something special for you,

  So thought of a card I might send,

  But no card that could come to my view,

  Would convey the thoughts I had meant to extend.

  I thought of making you breakfast in bed,

  Maybe waffles or something else that would please you,

  But I'm not much of a cook as you know,

  And anything I'd make would taste like a shoe.

  I could bring you candy or flowers,

  But what kinds would they be?

  If I brought you something that you didn't like,
>
  'twouldn't be something you'd be happy to see.

  I could buy you a gift of great surprise,

  But would you be happy with what I gave?

  I might think that a coat would please you

  When perfume had been what you actually did crave.

  Maybe dinner out would have been good for you,

  Or dancing all night at a club.

  I might take you at a place to twirl,

  When you had wanted to go to a pub.

  A romantic week at a grand hotel

  With champagne and service galore!

  I might choose a place in the mountains

  When you wanted a cruise far from shore.

  Lingerie might be nice for you,

  And I would like that too,

  But showing up at a shop to buy it,

  Would be something I could not do.

  There's only one thing that I'm truly good at,

  A poem of love I can surely write.

  It would be full of words of love and devotion

  That would you greatly excite!

  So, here it is with great love, Jerry

  Looking on, Jerry waited until she had finished, then, expectantly, asked, "What do you think of my poem, Darling?"

  "It's terrible!" she exclaimed smiling, "but I loved it!"

  "Sweetheart, I love you so much.

  What more could I possibly say?

  The only words that fit are,

  You've certainly made my day!"

  Twenty-Four Home-Groan Puns

  1-Making Candy

  Susan needed to make more money so she decided to learn how to make candy. At first, nothing worked. Her bonbons bombed, her fruit loops drooped, and her peanut clusters crushed. She was in despair. But she persisted, and, at last, she learned. And, she made a mint!

  2-A Fowl Story

  It is a known fact that the famous Sherlock Holmes once spent some time in jail as a consequence of one of his adventures. In order to solve The Case of the Churlish Chicken, he had gone into a poultry store to pick up a special kind of fowl. Unfortunately, he was in a great hurry and left without paying for the bird. The store owner summoned the police and demanded that they arrest the distinguished looking gentleman with the cape on. Which they did.

  3-Close Encounters

  There is much anxiety over UFOs these days. There are encounters of the first, second, and third kind. Many of these encounters are certainly mysteries, but some sightings can easily be explained. Just the other day, for example, a flight the pigeons went by. This was seen on the radar screens and there was a great deal of alarm. It had not been anything to worry about, however.
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