Going On The Wagon

Going On The Wagon

I had eighteen bottles of whiskey in my cellar and was told by my wife that I had a drinking problem, and to empty the contents of each and every bottle down the sink, or else. I said I would and proceeded with the unpleasant task.

I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink with the exception of one glass, which I drank.

I then withdrew the cork from the second bottle and did likewise with it, with the exception of one glass, which I drank.

I then withdrew the cork from the third bottle and poured the whiskey down the sink which I drank.

I pulled the cork from the fourth bottle down the sink and poured the bottle down the glass, which I drank.

I pulled the bottle from the cork of the next and drank one sink out of it, and threw the rest down the glass.

I pulled the sink out of the next glass and poured the cork down the bottle. Then I corked the sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour.

When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand, counted the glasses, corks, bottles, and sinks with the other, which were twenty-nine, and as the houses came by I counted them again, and finally I had all the houses in one bottle, which I drank.

I'm not under the affluence of incohol as some thinkle peep I am. I'm not half as thunk as you might drink. I fool so feelish I don't know who is me, and the drunker I stand here, the longer I get.

A Senior Mix-Up

Just a line to say I'm living,
That I'm not among the dead.
Though I'm getting more forgetful
And more mixed up in the head.

For sometimes I can't remember,
When I stand at foot of stairs,
If I must go up for something,
Or if I've just come down from there.

And before the fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt
Have I just put food away?...or
Have I come to take some out?

And there's times when it is dark out,
With my night cap on my head
I don't know if I'm retiring
Or just getting out of bed.

So...if it's my turn to write you
There's no need of getting sore,
I may think that I have written
And don't want to be a bore!!

So, remember..I do love you
And I wish that you were here,
But now it's nearly mail time,
So I must say good-bye my dear.

There I stood beside the mail box
With a face so very red
Instead of mailing you my letter,
I had opened it instead!!

My bifocals fit - my dentures are fine
My hearing aid works...but ..I do miss my mind!!!

-- Author Unknown

Old Coffee

Late one night I stopped at one of those 24-hour gas station mini-marts to get myself a fresh-brewed cup of coffee.

When I picked up the pot, I could not help noticing that the brew was as black as asphalt and just about as thick.

"How old is the coffee you have here?" I asked the woman who was standing behind the store counter.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've only been working here two weeks."