My First Dirty Joke for 2011

Once I was so bored I got this joke and made it better, I think. Recited with the right timing, it may be a good one to tell at certain parties I won’t mention here:

In the 1950s there was a woman who was going to marry her fiance. As was appropriate for that time, she was a virgin. She knew enough, though, to have heard somewhere that her first time would be expected to employ some amount of pain.

Fortunately she enjoyed better rapport with her mother than some people have nowadays, and so she asked her for some advice. Her mother consoled her and gave her advice, but the bride-to-be was very nervous. Her mother eventually proposed a plan for her.

“Listen, if you feel painful, you can moo like a cow, no one here need to know it’s you. I will know, though, and I will come and check out if you’re all right. Your husband can wait until next night. But if you feel all right, just sing and I will know you’ll have a good night.” Finally, the daughter agrees to the plan.

Wedding night. The reception goes by so fast. Guests come and go. The food, the priest, the takeaway food have been dealt with. The couple retire to their bed upstairs. The mother of the bride quite forgot what she was supposed to do, and went to sleep at the room downstairs.

“Moo…”

The mother hardly stirred. Cows are common indeed here.

“Moo!”

She sat up tiredly, pulled up her robe and felt for her glasses.

“Mooo! Moo!”

With a start she suddenly remembered her duty. She tiptoed to the door to avoid waking up the bride’s father.

“Moo! Moo! Moo!”

A desperate cry for help indeed! The mother put on her left slipper, forgot the other, and rushed up the stairs.

“Moomooomoomoomoomoomoomoomoomoo..”

The sounds in the upstairs bedroom take on a rhythm not unlike a police or ambulance siren. The mother reached the door and prepared to knock.

But the room was silent. The mother turned her back to return to her bed when she heard another sound, “Mooooooo—” She raised her hand, knuckles facing the wood and the fist ready to swing on her wrist,

“—oon river! wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style…”

She smiled and returned to bed.

It is not funny in a very vulgar way, but I think I can tell this version over coffee with polite conversation.

Advertisements

Mag-iwan ng Tugon

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Baguhin )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Baguhin )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Baguhin )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Baguhin )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: