Thursday, July 31, 2008

joke of the week

i wrote this a few months ago but didn't finish it, or post it...

the sun goes down. outside, it's much like denver: breezeless, mild, beautiful. i wander up the street towards an intersection that joins the town park and what you might call a convenience store. This is my favorite place to pass the time. The shop is run by a family of five, all likeable people and all liking the Gringo. I enjoy the father the most. We talk shop. Some nights, we talk God (i trust him enough to have already told him i am actually not a Christian). Other nights we talk politics (i told him i like Obama because he's half honkey and all donkey). Tonight, all i say to him is a joke someone told me a month ago. This, like most fantastic jokes, translates perfectly in any language.
"What do you call a guy with a broken condom?"
"Dad."
He starts laughing to a point where i can't help but laugh too. Someone else walks up and he is told the joke, and he too starts laughing like an idiot in the middle of town. We attract a crowd.
The next day, i can't pass an hour without someone mentioning the joke. Someone asks me for another joke. I can't come up with anything, but i happen to be a little gasy. So i extend my index finger and request that the unsuspecting kid pull my finger. I don't expect him to do it. But he does, and with no idea of the consequesnces. I proceed to fart like a horse. This kid's life will never be the same.
An hour later, back at the convenience store, the mom (the store is run out of someone's house) is telling some lady how the Gringo tore ass when some kid pulled his finger.
I can't maintain this.
And i can't leave my house without little girls covering their shy faces with one hand, and extending one finger towards me. They don't say anything, and they're not really pointing. But i get the message.