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December 17, 2005

Come Saturday Morning...

In a recent conversation with one of the Ladies of the Castle, I was informed of her newfound passion for bicycling.

I don’t remember a blasted thing about the rest of the talk, because I had an immediate flashback to my college days…

I was sorta-kinda dating a damsel named Judy, who attended an all-female school a few miles away. The campus was fairly expansive and her schedule arrangement required some fancy scrambling from building to building.

This is bullshDarn,” she thought. “I sure could use some transportation.”

Judy wrote to her dear ol’ Dad, explained the situation and casually mentioned that she needed a few hundred dollars to buy a junker modestly-priced compact car.

BullshAlas, honeybunch,” Dad wrote back, “your tuition is almost more than we can afford. But I’ve enclosed fifty dollars--go ahead and buy a decent bicycle. Besides, it'll save you the trouble of looking for a parking spot each time you go to a new class.”

Judy was less than thrilled with the idea, but she figured it was an improvement over her daily walk-a-thon. So, she took the fifty dollars and started downtown to the bicycle shop.

As fate would have it, there was a pet store right next to the bicycle shop.

And in the pet store window, gazing at the world with imploring eyes, was a cute little capuchin monkey, sitting next to a sign that read, “Sale! This cute little capuchin monkey and a year’s supply of monkey chow--only fifty dollars!”

Judy fell in love. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she thought.“ And only fifty dollars…hmmmmm…walking’s actually pretty good exercise…and finding a place to park the bike between classes will be a pain…and…and...”

And she went into the pet store and bought the monkey.

She was enthralled. The cute little capuchin monkey had impeccable table manners, it was playful and cuddly and adorable.

And it had a mild case of mange.

And inside of a week, it had a *bad* case of mange.

Judy was frantic. Fortunately, she was of a generation that still believed Father Knows Best.

She phoned her dear ol’ Dad.

“Daddy,” she sobbed. “All the hair is falling off my monkey--what’ll I *do*?”

Dad answered, “Sell the bicycle.”

UPDATE: I have *no* idea what attracted Don Surber to this, but follow his link, read the story and leave him a nice note. I've worked with the organization he's mentioned and they're great folks. Hey--Sarge B! You probably have, too...
CW4BillT | Permalink | Comments (9) | I think it's funny!
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