A man walks into a bar, and half his head is an orange.

 

He sits down, orders a drink. The bartender eyes him warily, but gets him what he wants. The man sits sipping the drink, idly watching the soccer game on the bar television. After a while, he runs dry and orders another.

 

"Tell you what," says the bartender, "this next one's on the house -- but you've got to tell me what happened to your head. I don't mean to be rude there, but..."

 

The man smiles. "No, not at all. I get this all the time.

 

Well, it started with the Gulf War. I was a young kid fresh out of high school, but I was poor. I needed money for college, and the Army looked like a good way out of the ghetto. But then they shipped me over to Kuwait. My platoon took some heavy fire during Desert Storm, and I was separated from them.

 

I wandered the desert for days, with only the contents of my pack to sustain me. I ran out of water, I ran out of food. I was desperate, on the virge of death -- when suddenly, I saw a glint of metal in the distance...

 

I forced myself onward, hoping the shining brightness was a glint of gunmetal from my platoon, or a city on the horizon, or anything. When I finally reached it, it was a piece of metal half-burried in the sand. I dug around it and excavated what appeared to be an old Persian oil lamp.

 

There was an inscription on the lamp, too covered in dust to read. I rubbed at the embossed lettering -- and then, a swirl of smoke and light surrounded me. Suddenly, before me, stood a ten-foot tall being, dressed in traditional Arabian garb, arms crossed.

 

'I am the Djinni of the lamp,' said the entity. 'For releasing me, I shall grant you three wishes. What is your first wish, my master?'

 

I was incredulous, of course. I deduced I must be hallucinating, that this was desert madness. I decided to test the mirage. 'Alright,' I tasked it, 'I wish for a wallet with a million dollars in it, that I can never lose, and whenever I take any money out of it the sum is immediately replenished.'

 

'Your wish is granted!' boomed the Djinni. I felt a bluge in one of my uniform pockets. Reaching in, I pulled out a new wallet, stuffed to bursting with crisp, new American bills. I counted them -- sure enough, it was a million dollars. I ripped up the bills, cast them to the four winds, and threw the wallet as hard as I could. The moment it was beyond my sight, it teleported instantaneously back to my pocket, refilled with another million dollars.

 

'What is you second wish, my master?'

 

I pondered the notion for a long moment, assessing my needs. 'Djinni,' I said, 'for my second wish, I want to be transported to a cool, abandoned palace, into a harem room with a hundred beautiful young virgins who will all fall madly in love with me at first sight, before a buffet table set with a feast fit for a king.'

 

'Your wish is granted!' Poof! I found myself in a royal harem, escaped from the heat of the desert. All around me, nubile girls eyed me with keen interest. In front of me, every conceivable type of meat was roasted to perfect tenderness, set with all the appetizers, side-dishes, salads, soups, and desserts of the four corners of the globe.

 

I dined until I was near-bloated, and then I had a lot of sex. I mean a lot. Several hours later, laying upon a bed of feathers, brown and blonde and red haired beauties nuzzling into me like puppies at their mother's underbelly, the Djinni stood before me, looking down in satisfaction at his work so far.

 

'What is your third wish, my master?'

 

I thought long and hard. Truly, this last wish tasked the very limits of my imagination, my beliefs, my ethics, my philosophy. Hours passed in silence, save for the gentle snoring of the ladies surrounding me.

 

At last, I spoke.

 

'Djinni, for my third wish, I want half my head to be an orange.'"

---

 

There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.

 

Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So, he asked them, "What's the Purple Wombat?"

 

"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.

 

"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the chldren shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!"

 

The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.

 

Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the Pledge of Allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.

 

Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?"

 

"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm, "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man. No, no buts -- march!"

 

So, Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.

 

"Well, Billy," he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?"

 

"Mr. Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff."

 

"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?"

 

"It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is."

 

"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended."

 

The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.

 

"Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?"

 

"Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"

 

"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked. "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"

 

So, Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.

 

"Billy," his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?"

 

"Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"

 

"You...don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!"

 

Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way -- lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.

 

Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy."

 

Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy."

 

It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat."

 

Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy."

 

The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."

 

Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But, he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy."

 

Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."

 

It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But, he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.

 

"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy."

 

The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."

 

It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim, so he drowned.

 

Moral of this story: Don't stand up in a boat.

---

 

There are two legionnaires in the desert, and they've been separated from their unit and are lost. They've been wandering for several days without food and water and are resigned to the fact that they will soon die from dehydration, when, as they reach the top of a sand dune, they see a big, bustling market laid out before them.

 

Naturally, they can't believe their eyes and think it's a mirage, but as they draw closer, they can hear the stallholders' cries, and they eventually reach the market and realise that it's really there.

 

So the legionnaires rush up to the first stall they can and cry to the stallholder, "Stallholder, we have been travelling in the desert for many days, and have had no food or water. We shall surely die soon unless you have some you can sell us - tell us, do you have any sustenance for us?"

 

The stallholder shook his head and replied "I'm sorry, French legionnaire type people, but all I have to sell is a load of bowls full of jelly, topped with custard and cream, and lovingly sprinkled with hundreds and thousands."

 

The legionnaires look at each other, mildly surprised, and move on to the next stall, where they ask the stallholder, "Mister purveyor of fine foodstuffs and the like, we have been travelling through the desert for days, deprived of the necessary beverages and foodstuffs which are required for survival. We shall surely die soon, unless you can sell us some skins of water."

 

The stallholder looked at them embarrassed, and confessed "Gentlemen, tragic as I admit it is, I have none of the ingredients necessary to life for which you ask me. All I have to sell is this large bowl of jelly topped with custard and cream and sprinkled with hundreds and thousands, with a little cocktail cherry in the middle at the top - there," he said, pointing out the glace cherry. "I cannot help you."

 

The legionnaires look at each other in desperation, and run on to the next stall, where they demand of the stallholder, "Look mate," (cos they'd stopped talking funny all of a sudden) "we need water or we'll die. We've been travelling without water for days and need some now. Do you have any you can sell us?"

 

The stallholder looked at his curl-ended shoes in shame as he confessed, "Sorry, fellas, all I have to sell you is a bowl of jelly, with custard, cream and hundreds and thousands. I can't help you. I'll have to condemn you to a long and lingering death through dehydration."

 

The legionnaires were really worried by this point. They went through the market, stall by stall, asking each stallholder whether they had any water they could sell them, and thus save their lives, but each stallholder gave the same reply, all they had to sell was a bowl of jelly with cream, custard and hundreds and thousands.

 

Dejected and resigned to their grim fate, the legionnaires left the desert market and walked off into the setting sun. As they did so, one turned to the other and said, "That was really odd - a big market in the middle of nowhere, and all they sold was bowls of jelly with custard, cream and hundreds and thousands." The other turned to face his companion and replied "Yes, it was a trifle bazaar".

---

 

A man is waiting for his wife to give birth.

The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs.

The son is just a head!

But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion.

After 18 years, the son is now old enough for his first drink. Dad takes him to the bar, tearfully tells the son he is proud of him and orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol.

Swoooosh! Plop!!

A torso pops out!

The bar is dead silent; then bursts into whoops of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink!"

The bartender continues to shake his head in dismay.

Swoooosh!

Plip! Plop!!

Two arms pop out.

The bar goes wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant, "Take another drink! Take another drink!!"

The bartender ignores the whole affair and goes back to polishing glasses, shaking his head, clearly unimpressed by the amazing scenes.

By now the boy is getting tipsy, but with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it.

Plop! Plip!!

Two legs pop out. The bar is in chaos.

The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God.

The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left then staggers to the right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly.

The bar falls silent.

The father moans in grief.

The bartender sighs and says,

 

 

"He should've quit while he was a head."