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Jonzey

Is there a bigger joke these days than Norwich??

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[quote user="shyster"][quote user="TheCanaryFan"]

[quote user="braintree canary"]sorry wasnt meant to offend but thought it was a little bit funny...[/quote]

Sadly so will alot of other posters. Fair play for the apology though.

[/quote]

Hey, chump! I didn''t find the joke funny at all. Neither did I find the whole Jean Charles de menez case funny - he was yet another foreign illegal that cost the British tax payer a small fortune.[/quote]Was him being an illegal immigrant the worst part?

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[quote user="shyster"][quote user="TheCanaryFan"]

[quote user="braintree canary"]sorry wasnt meant to offend but thought it was a little bit funny...[/quote]

Sadly so will alot of other posters. Fair play for the apology though.

[/quote]


Hey, chump! I didn''t find the joke funny at all. Neither did I find the whole Jean Charles de menez case funny - he was yet another foreign illegal that cost the British tax payer a small fortune.[/quote]

Foreign Illegal? I think you will find he was a national, not an immigrant. However, that really isnt the point.

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"Norfolk&Chance" Said  - Did you ever hear about the homosexual hermit? You wouldn''t want to know him. He really is up himself

 

lmao [:D]

 

Metaphorically, the ''Midas touch'' is defined as someone of good fortune, for whom everything they touch "turns to gold".

Gordon Brown is said to have the ''Andrex touch.''  [:S]

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[quote user="Jimmy Smith"][quote user="Jonzey"]

Well Newcastle take some beating as the biggest joke, 50 years plus with no silverwear, a cockney owner who pretends to be a Geordie and is now stuck with a club who he only bought to make a profit, then to top it all appointing Joe Kinnear (??!!) after sacking  Keegan, a man who admitted at the interview he hadn''t watched a game for 3 years!

Maybe we do fall into the ''what a shame'' catergory. Which is probably worse. But then ever since we first went down mid nineties we''ve consistently under performed. Even when we scraped the play offs we had been dreadful most of the season. The only blip was when the board had a fit of ambition, bought in Crouch and Huckerby and we cruised the league.

Why can''t we even do a Preston and be a decent, consistent Championship side, who are normally well in the mix?

[/quote]

ahhh, finally someone with my view! i find it so hard to convince my friends who mainly support decent premiership teams that it really has been that bad for the last 15 years!
[/quote]

I wouldn''t mind our predicament if we were a small Doncaster type club punching above our weight, but we should have been higher in the league in probably 14 of the last 15 seasons. Yet every year we struggle and under perform. Every year the management fail to sort the defence. Every year I want to become a Manchester Utd supporter and take the easy road. Yet every year I stay loyal and wonder why!

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Not sure about bigger, but certainly longer:

The

Longest Joke

in the World

* * *

Lost in the Desert

So, there''s a man crawling through the desert.

He''d

decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had

great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit

a big rock, and then he couldn''t get it started again. There were no

cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He

had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto

accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here.

He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran

out

and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction

back, now that he''d paid attention to the sun and thought he''d figured

out which

way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had

to go about 30 miles or so and he''d be back to the small town he''d

gotten gas

in last.

He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based

upon

how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he''s afraid that he''ll break a leg or step on a

rattlesnake. So,

he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication

later, brings an umbrella he''d had in the back of the SUV with him to

give

him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water

bottle

in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he

finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the

direction he thinks is right.

He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he''s really thirsty.

He''s

been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He''s

reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but

he still

feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in

his

pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it''s mainly water

and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some

kind of

poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the

poison is, and

whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst.

He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark.

By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he''s been

walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10

hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be

close to the

town. But he doesn''t recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek

bed a mile or two back, and he doesn''t remember coming through it in the

SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the

dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that

he''s close, and that after dark he''ll start seeing the town lights over one

of these hills, and that''ll be all he needs.

As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and

things,

he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights.

Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands

back

up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars.

He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are

gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they''re full of sand. He so

thirsty

that he can''t even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so

cold. He''d forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn''t

noticed it

the night before because he''d been in his car.

He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days

without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can

make it

a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having

to walk and sweat isn''t the best situation to be without water. He

figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day.

He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He

waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth

goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone

numb? Is it

just in

his mind? He''s not sure. He''ll go a little farther, and if he still

doesn''t

find water, he''ll try drinking some of the fluid.

Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go

from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that

he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has

no idea what to do.

Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the

direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself

somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking.

As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a

couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at

first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop

sweating he knows that means you''re in trouble - usually right before heat

stroke.

He decides that it''s time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can''t

wait

any longer - if he passes out, he''s dead. He stops in the shade of a

large

rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly

swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his

dry

and cracked throat that he doesn''t even care about the nasty taste. He

takes

another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the

bottle.

He figures that since he''s drinking it, he might as well drink enough to

make some difference and keep himself from passing out.

He''s quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills

him,

it kills him - if he didn''t drink it, he''d die anyway. Besides, he''s

pretty

sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just

designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper

fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that.

He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills,

dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water.

Sometimes he''ll see a little movement to one side or the other, but

whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably

birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night.

He''s careful to stay away from the movements.

After a while, he begins to stagger. He''s not sure if it''s fatigue, heat

stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing

of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and

keep going.

After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good!

He

knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing

donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - he''s getting woozy

enough and tired enough that he''s not sure what he remembers any more

or if

he''s hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into

it,

trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the

town.

He was heading for a town, wasn''t he? He thinks he was. He isn''t sure

any more. He''s not even sure how long he''s been walking any more. Is it

still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down

again? It must be afternoon - it seems like it''s been too long since he started

out.

He walks through the sand.

After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He

doesn''t

remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he

doesn''t think he remembers any. This is bad.

But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He

figures

that he''ll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything

from

there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune.

Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or

third

time, and falls to his knees. He doesn''t feel like getting back up -

he''ll

just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and

knees.

While crawling, if his throat weren''t so dry, he''d laugh. He''s finally

gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling

through

the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he

imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the

desert

in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without

any

rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half

buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape

-

shake the sand out, and a good wash, and they''d be wearable again. He

wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts.

He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that he''s at the

top,

he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he

sees

is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks

he

sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more

dunes, more sand. This isn''t where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or

close enough.

Again, he doesn''t know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the

wiper

fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing

the

cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the

sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something

strange.

It''s a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle

off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And it''s

dark -

darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of

it,

but he can''t tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can

tell

from

here. He''s going to have to go down there and look.

He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the

dune.

After a few steps, he realizes that he''s in trouble - he''s not going to

be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering

steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his

body hits it that for a minute he thinks he''s caught fire on the way down -

like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff,

before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling.

He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds

enough

energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes.

When

he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark

spot

in the sand it still there and he hadn''t just imagined it.

So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he

begins

to crawl towards it. He''d get up and walk towards it, but he doesn''t

seem to

have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final

stages

of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand

doesn''t

have water, he''ll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last

chance.

He gets closer and closer, but still can''t see what''s in the middle of

the

dark area. His eyes won''t quite focus any more for some reason. And

lifting

his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He

just

keeps crawling.

Finally, he reaches the area he''d seen from the dune. It takes him a

minute of crawling on it before he realizes that he''s no longer on sand - he''s

now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on

it - a pattern cut into the stone. He''s too tired to stand up and try to see

what the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the

center,

where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark

stone

area.

His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and

knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this

dark

stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun

overhead, doesn''t seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers

lying

down on the nice cool surface.

Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. He''s

probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and

dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the

beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start

giving him

a drink. Then he''ll know he''s gone.

He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If he''s going to die

here

in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see what''s in

the

center before he goes. He keeps crawling.

It''s the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what he''s

hearing. He would swear that someone just said, "Greetings, traveler.

You do

not look well. Do you hear me?"

He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and

knees, but it''s too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something

different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few

seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up,

and

tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his

hands

and tries again. Better this time.

Yep. He can see. He''s sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark

expanse

of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post

or

pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five

feet

out of the stone, at an angle.

And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and

seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot

long

desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him.

He stares at the snake in shock. He doesn''t have the energy to get up

and

run away. He doesn''t even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his

final resting place. No matter what happens, he''s not going to be able

to

move from this spot.

Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than

dying of thirst. He''ll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a

little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and

waves

it in the snake''s direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a

moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes.

Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadn''t rattled

yet -

that was a good sign. Maybe he wasn''t going to die of snake bite after

all.

He then remembers that he''d looked up when he''d reached the center here

because he thought he''d heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was

likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he

was

now on cool stone. He still didn''t have anything to drink. But maybe he

had

actually heard a voice. This stone didn''t look natural. Nor did that

white

post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe

they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this

snake

was even their pet, and that''s why it wasn''t biting.

He tries to clear his throat to say, "Hello," but his throat is too

dry. All

that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way he''s

going

to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and

the

bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle

out,

almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This

isn''t

good. He doesn''t have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes

out.

He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his

lips,

and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and

then

swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can

talk

now.

He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping

to

spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, "Hello? Is there anyone

here?"

He hears, from his side, "Greetings. What is it that you want?"

He turns his head, back towards the snake. That''s where the sound had

seemed

to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a

speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He

decides

to try asking for help.

"Please," he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, "I''d love to not be

thirsty any more. I''ve been a long time without water. Can you help me?"

Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was

coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open

its

mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he

falls forward, face first on the stone, "Very well. Coming up."

A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He

sits

up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. He''s

momentarily

disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl

across the

sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still

wrapped

around the tilted white post, still looking at him.

He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly

wet.

He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his

shoulder

again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture

holes -

they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had

been

bitten. By the snake.

"It''ll feel better in a minute." He looks up - it''s the snake talking.

He

hadn''t dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - he''s not dizzy any more. And

more

importantly, he''s not thirsty any more - at all!

"Have I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the

afterlife?"

"Sorry about that, but I had to bite you," says the snake. "That''s the

way I

work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine."

"You bit me to help me? Why aren''t I thirsty any more? Did you give me a

drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to

not be

thirsty any more? I haven''t had a drink for over two days. Well, except

for

the windshield wiper fluid... hold it, how in the world does a snake

talk?

Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?"

"No," says the snake, "I''m real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I

didn''t give you a drink. I bit you. That''s how it works - it''s what I

do. I

bite. I don''t have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just

sitting around here."

The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of

the

desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasn''t, talking to a

snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better.

Not

great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no

longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He

felt

hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the

cool

stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer

dying of thirst.

"I might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your

system with the next request," continued the snake. "I can guess why you

drank it, but I''m not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was

left

in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. It''ll make you go blind in a

day or

two, if you drank enough of it."

"Ummm, n-next request?" said the man. He put his hand back on his

hurting

shoulder and backed away from the snake a little.

"That''s the way it works. If you like, that is," explained the snake.

"You

get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish." The snake grinned

at his

own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs.

"But there are rules," the snake continued. "The first request is free.

The

second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding

of

responsibility." The snake looks at the man seriously.

"By the way," the snake says suddenly, "my name is Nathan. Old Nathan,

Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the

Bound

used to just call me ''Snake''. But that got old, and Samuel wouldn''t

stand

for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big

into

names. You can call me Nate, if you wish." Again, the snake grinned.

"Sorry

if I don''t offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake

sounds

somewhat threatening." The snake give his rattle a little shake.

"Umm, my name is Jack," said the man, trying to absorb all of this.

"Jack

Samson.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jack says suddenly. "What happened to the

poison...umm, in your bite. Why aren''t I dying now? How did you do that?

What do you mean by that''s how you work?"

"That''s more than one question," grins Nate. "But I''ll still try to

answer

all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question." The snake''s grin

gets

wider. "Second, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer

need

to drink. That''s what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked

to not

be thirsty any more - but ''any more'' is such a vague term. I decided to

make

it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldn''t need to drink

much at

all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able

to

get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the

desert.

You''ve been changed.

"For the third question," Nate continues, "you are still dying. Besides

the

effects of that methanol in your system, you''re a man - and men are

mortal.

In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years.

Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is." Nate seemed vastly

amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin.

"As for the fourth question," Nate said, looking more serious as far as

Jack

could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read

talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, "first you have to

agree

to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I can''t

tell

you."

"Wait," joked Jack, "isn''t this where you say you could tell me, but

you''d

have to kill me?"

"I thought that was implied." Nate continued to look serious.

"Ummm...yeah." Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he

was

talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for

having a

nasty temper. "So, what is this ''Bound by Secrecy'' stuff, and can you

really

stop the effects of the methanol?" Jack thought for a second. "And,

what do

you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in

wiper

fluid, and just denature it?"

"They may, I don''t really know," said Nate. "I haven''t gotten out in a

while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your

breath and

on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you

pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I

assume

that they still color wiper fluid blue?"

"Yeah, they do," said Jack.

"I figured," replied Nate. "As for being bound by secrecy - with the

fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing

about me,

this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when

you

decide to go back out to your kind. You won''t be allowed to talk about

me,

write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that

will

lead someone to guess correctly about me. You''ll be bound to secrecy. Of

course, I''ll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as I''m

guessing that you''re a man of your word, you''ll never test the binding

anyway, so you won''t notice." Nate said the last part with utter

confidence.

Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a

little nervous at this. "Ummm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know

that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?"

Well, Jack," said Nate sadly, "I can''t tell you that, unless you make

the

second request." Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back.

"Umm, well, ok," said Jack, "what is this about a second request? What

can I

ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?"

"Sure!" said Nate, brightening. "You''re allowed to ask for changes.

Changes

to yourself. They''re like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and

before you ask, I can''t give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or

omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you

gaseous

and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere

and

sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still

wouldn''t be

omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not

very

useful, at least in my opinion." Nate stopped when he realized that

Jack was

staring at him.

"Well, anyway," continued Nate, "I''d probably suggest giving you

permanent

good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, you''d be

immune to most poisons and diseases, and you''d tend to live a very long

time, barring accident, of course. And you''ll even have a tendency to

recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a

request to me."

"Cure the methanol poisoning, huh?" said Jack. "And keep me healthy for

a

long time? Hmmm. It doesn''t sound bad at that. And it has to be a

request

about a change to me? I can''t ask to be rich, right? Because that''s not

really a change to me?"

"Right," nodded Nate.

"Could I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?" Jack asked,

hopefully.

"That takes two requests, Jack."

"Yeah, I figured so," said Jack. "But I could ask to be a genius? I

could

become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?"

"Well, I could make you very smart," admitted Nate, "but that wouldn''t

necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make

you

very athletic, but it wouldn''t necessarily make you the best athlete

either.

You''ve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, there''s

some

truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I can''t make you work

hard. It

all depends on what you decide to do with it."

"Hmmm," said Jack. "Ok, I think I understand. And I get a third request,

after this one?"

"Maybe," said Nate, "it depends on what you decide then. There are more

rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the

second

request. You know how it goes." Nate looked like he''d shrug, if he had

shoulders.

"Ok, well, since I''d rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent

health doesn''t sound bad, then consider that my second request.

Officially.

Do I need to sign in blood or something?"

"No," said Nate. "Just hold out your hand. Or heel." Nate grinned. "Or

whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I

said,

that''s how it works - the poison, you know," Nate said apologetically.

Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was.

Hey, it

didn''t hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel

better

about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen

foot

snake sunk it''s fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it

felt to

be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach,

Jack

tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it

wouldn''t hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasn''t going to be easy.

"Hey, Jack," Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes

behind

him, "is that someone else coming up over there?"

Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of

nowhere? And did they bring food?

Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate...

Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end,

through

his jeans...

Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. "I would have

decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didn''t

have to

hoodwink me like that."

"I''ve been doing this a long time, Jack," said Nate, confidently. "You

humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you -

especially one my size. And besides, admit it - it''s only been a couple

of

minutes and it already doesn''t hurt any more, does it? That''s because

of the

health benefit with this one. I told you that you''d heal quickly now."

"Yeah, well, still," said Jack, "it''s the principle of the thing. And

nobody

likes being bitten in the butt! Couldn''t you have gotten my calf or

something instead?"

"More meat in the typical human butt," replied Nate. "And less chance

you

accidentally kick me or move at the last second."

"Yeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now

qualify

to hear," answered Jack.

"Ok," said Nate. "Do you want to ask questions first, or do you want me

to

just start talking?"

"Just talk," said Jack. "I''ll sit here and try to not think about food."

"We could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,"

answered Nate.

"Hey! You didn''t tell me you had food around here, Nate!" Jack jumped

up.

"What do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically

whip up food along with your other powers?" Jack was almost shouting

with

excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours.

"I was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and

bite

it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife,

that is," replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get

used to.

"Ugh," said Jack, sitting back down. "I think I''ll pass. I can last a

little

longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever

else it

is you find out here. And there''s nothing to burn - I''d have to eat it

raw.

No thanks. Just talk."

"Ok," replied Nate, still grinning. "But I''d better hurry, before you

start

looking at me as food.

Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then

continued.

"You, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden."

Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate

sceptically.

"Well, that''s the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack," said Nate.

"Stand up

and look at the symbol on the rock here." Nate gestured around the dark

stone they were both sitting on with his nose.

Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a

representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped

around

was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main

branches

left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it

looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and

embedded in the stone than it did like a carving.

Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the

setting sun. He wished he''d looked at it while the sun was higher in the

sky.

Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend

another

night out here! Arrrgh!

Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back

and

stood next to Nate. "In all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate," said

Jack. "Which way is it back to town? And how far? I''m eventually going

to

have to head back - I''m not sure I''ll be able to survive by eating raw

desert critters for long. And even if I can, I''m not sure I''ll want to."

"It''s about 30 miles that way." Nate pointed, with the rattle on his

tail

this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right

angles to

the way he''d been going when he was crawling here. "But that''s 30 miles

by

the way the crow flies. It''s about 40 by the way a man walks. You

should be

able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you

head

out early tomorrow, Jack."

Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more,

and

then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about

heading

out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the

interesting

stuff. "Garden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?"

"Well, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway," said

Nate. "He

figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a

''tree'', offering ''temptations'', making bargains. That kind stuff. But he

could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot

from

across the ocean. He worried about that for a while."

"Garden of Eden, hunh?" said Jack. "How long have you been here, Nate?"

"No idea, really," replied Nate. "A long time. It never occurred to me

to

count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late.

But I

do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure it''s been

thousands

of years, at least."

"So, are you the snake that tempted Eve?" said Jack.

"Beats me," said Nate. "Maybe. I can''t remember if the first one of your

kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it

could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to

grant

requests a ''temptation'', though I''ve rarely had refusals."

"Well, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck

out

of the stone there?" asked Jack.

"Dad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake -

much

bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I don''t

remember

if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted.

But

one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to

do

something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed.

I''ve

been here ever since.

"What is this place?" said Jack. "And what did he ask you to do?"

"Well, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?" Nate

loosened his

coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended

into

the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to

enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned

over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as

far as

Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but

Nate was suddenly there in the way.

"You can''t touch that yet, Jack," said Nate.

"Why not?" asked Jack.

"I haven''t explained it to you yet," replied Nate.

"Well, it kinda looks like a lever or something," said Jack. "You''d

push it

that way, and it would move in the slot."

"Yep, that''s what it is," replied Nate.

"What does it do?" asked Jack. "End the world?"

"Oh, no," said Nate. "Nothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I

call it

''The Lever of Doom''." For the last few words Nate had used a deeper,

ringing

voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and

grinned.

Jack was initially startled by Nate''s pronouncement, but when Nate

grinned

Jack laughed. "Ha! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What

does it

really do?"

"Oh, it really ends humanity, like I said," smirked Nate. "I just

thought

the voice I used was funny, didn''t you?"

Nate continued to grin.

"A lever to end humanity?" asked Jack. "What in the world is that for?

Why

would anyone need to end humanity?"

"Well," replied Nate, "I get the idea that maybe humanity was an

experiment.

Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really

bad, there should be a way to end it. I''m not really sure. All I know

are

the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why it''s here. I

didn''t think to ask back when I started here."

"Rules? What rules?" asked Jack.

"The rules are that I can''t tell anybody about it or let them touch it

unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one

human

can be bound in that way at a time. That''s it." explained Nate.

Jack looked somewhat shocked. "You mean that I could pull the lever now?

You''d let me end humanity?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "if you want to." Nate looked at Jack carefully.

"Do

you want to, Jack?"

"Umm, no." said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever.

"Why in

the world would anyone want to end humanity? It''d take a psychotic to

want

that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too,

wouldn''t it?"

"Yep," replied Nate, "being as he''d be human too."

"Has anyone ever seriously considered it?" asked Nate. "Any of those

bound

to secrecy, that is?"

"Well, of course, I think they''ve all seriously considered it at one

time or

another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and

think, or so I''m told. Samuel considered it several times. He''d often

get

disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a

while.

But he never pulled it. Or you wouldn''t be here." Nate grinned some

more.

Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and

puzzled at

the same time. After a bit, he said, "So this makes me the Judge of

humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?"

"That seems to be it," agreed Nate.

"What kind of criteria do I use to decide?" said Jack. "How do I make

this

decision? Am I supposed to decide if they''re good? Or too many of them

are

bad? Or that they''re going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for

that?"

"Nope," replied Nate. "You pretty much just have to decide on your own.

It''s

up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that you''re just

supposed

to know."

"But what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel

horrible? Couldn''t I make a mistake? How do I know that I won''t screw

up?"

protested Jack.

Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. "You don''t. You just have

to

try your best, Jack."

Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly

getting dark, chewing on a fingernail.

Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. "Nate, was Samuel

the

one bound to this before me?"

"Yep," replied Nate. "He was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me

to

read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them

buried

in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few

months

ago."

"Sounds like a good guy," agreed Jack. "How did he handle this, when you

first told him. What did he do?"

"Well," said Nate, "he sat down for a while, thought about it for a

bit, and

then asked me some questions, much like you''re doing."

"What did he ask you, if you''re allowed to tell me?" asked Jack.

"He asked me about the third request," replied Nate.

"Aha!" It was Jack''s turn to grin. "And what did you tell him?"

"I told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third

request

you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the

point

that you really think that humanity should be ended, that you''ll come

here

and end it. You won''t avoid it, and you won''t wimp out." Nate looked

serious

again. "And you''ll be bound to do it too, Jack."

"Hmmm." Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while.

Nate watched him, waiting.

"Nate," continued Jack, quietly, eventually. "What did Samuel ask for

with

his third request?"

Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly,

"Wisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him."

"Ok," said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, "give

it

to me.

Nate looked at Jack''s backside. "Give you what, Jack?"

"Give me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped

him, maybe it''ll help me too." Jack turned his head to look back over

his

shoulder at Nate. "It did help him, right?"

"He said it did," replied Nate. "But he seemed a little quieter

afterward.

Like he had a lot to think about."

"Well, yeah, I can see that," said Jack. "So, give it to me." Jack

turned to

face away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up.

Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack

now,

Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both.

"You remember that you''ll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks

like

it needs it, right Jack?" asked Nate, shifting position.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that," replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and

body

tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nate''s voice.

"And," continued Nate, from his new position, "do you remember that

you''ll

turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?"

"Yeah, yeah...Hey, wait a minute!" said Jack, opening his eyes,

straightening up and turning around. "Purple?!" He didn''t see Nate

there.

With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its

slot

in the rock without the snake wrapped around it.

Jack heard, from behind him, Nate''s "Just Kidding!" right before he

felt the

now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock.

Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his

feet

extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening

to

the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where he''d been

recently bitten.

Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a

desert-rodent-shaped

bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the

lever,

his tongue flicking out into the desert night''s air the only sign that

he

was still awake.

Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand

while he

thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around.

"Nate, do accidents count?"

Nate lifted his head a little bit. "What do you mean, Jack?"

Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. "You know,

accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does

that still wipe out humanity?"

"Yeah, I''m pretty sure it does, Jack. I''d suggest you be careful about

that

if you start feeling wobbly," said Nate with some amusement.

A little later - "Does it have to be me that pulls the lever?" asked

Jack.

"That''s the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it," answered Nate.

"No," Jack shook his head, "I meant does it have to be my hand? Could I

pull

the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw

a

rock?"

"Yes, those should work," replied Nate. "Though I''m not sure how

complicated

you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote

control for it once, but gave it up. Everything he''d build would be

gone by

the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him

that

in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so

they

wouldn''t be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or

whatever had disappeared."

"Wow," said Jack, "Cool." Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept

him

off of the stone and looked up into the sky.

"Nate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too,

right?" asked Jack.

"Yes," replied Nate, "it was. He lived 167 years, Jack."

"Wow, 167 years. That''s almost 140 more years I''ll live if I live as

long.

Do you know what he died of, Nate?"

"He died of getting tired of living, Jack," Nate said, sounding somewhat

sad.

Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight.

Nate looked back. "Samuel knew he wasn''t going to be able to stay in

society. He figured that they''d eventually see him still alive and start

questioning it, so he decided that he''d have to disappear after a

while. He

faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too

early and

he could stay for a little longer. He wasn''t very fond of mankind, but

he

liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway.

"His daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He

didn''t

stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to

spend

time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months

ago he

told me he''d had enough. It was his time."

"And then he just died?" asked Jack.

Nate shook his head a little. "He made his forth request, Jack. There''s

only

one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite.

After a bit Nate continued, "He told me that he was tired, that it was

his

time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they

always

had.

After another pause, Nate finished, "Samuel''s body disappeared off the

stone

with the sunrise."

Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his

memories. It was a long time until Jack''s breathing evened out into

sleep.

Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled

with

the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well,

except

that his stomach was grumbling and he wasn''t willing to eat raw desert

rat.

So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how

to

get back, and reassuring Nate that he''d be back soon, Jack started the

long

walk back to town. With his new health and Nate''s good directions, he

made

it back easily.

Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day,

little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the

desert

and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend

with

a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the

SUV.

They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back

without

incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nate''s

lever, though their path back didn''t come within sight of it.

Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including

a

book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a

warning to

avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back

to see

Nate.

Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his

new

backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and

then

started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail,

and he

knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasn''t unheard

of,

and shouldn''t really raise suspicions.

Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines,

newspapers.

Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the

world,

others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with

Nate,

and then headed out again, telling Nate that he''d be back again soon,

but

that he had things to do first.

Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he

brought

a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar

recharger,

special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up,

and a

special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot

rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give

out

its location to the satellite.

After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited

him

fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year.

After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the

wisdom he

''d been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years,

working in a nine to five job for someone else didn''t seem that

worthwhile

any more. Jack went back to school.

Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or

perhaps

because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he

wrote,

and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and

started

traveling around the country for book signings and readings.

But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally.

On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had

been

a fountain of joy lately. Jack''s best guess was that Nate was still

missing

Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadn''t been able to replace

Samuel in Nate''s eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on

this

visit Nate didn''t even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He

nodded at

Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting

Nate''s

silence, sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, Nate spoke. "Jack, I have someone to introduce you

to."

Jack looked surprised. "Someone to introduce me to?" Jack looked

around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. "This something to do with the Big

Guy?

"No, no," replied Nate. "This is more personal. I want you to meet my

son."

Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. "Sammy!"

Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind

the

dune and up to the stone base of the lever.

"Yo, Jack," said the new, much smaller snake.

"Yo, Sammy" replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. "Named after Samuel, I

assume?"

Nate nodded. "Jack, I''ve got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy

around

for me?" Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the

edge of the stone and looked across the sands. "When Samuel first told

me

about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I

could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities,

even the

other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son

to

have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been.

"He''s seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I

hear that it''s not the same. That being there is different. I want him to

have

that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?"

Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didn''t

even

joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. "Yeah, I

can

do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?" Jack could sense that was

something more.

Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then

said,

"Oh, yeah. Ummm, I''ve gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to

meet

ya!" Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight.

Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. "Jack, this

is my

first son. My first offspring through all the years. You don''t even

want to

know what it took for me to find a mate." Nate grinned to himself. "But

anyway, I had a son for a reason. I''m tired. I''m ready for it to be

over. I

needed a replacement."

Jack considered this for a minute. "So, you''re ready to come see the

world,

and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?"

Nate shook his head. "No, Jack - you''re a better guesser than that.

You''ve

already figured out - I''m bound here - there''s only one way for me to

leave

here. And I''m ready. It''s my time to die."

Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about

this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it

would

be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in

another

hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself.

Jack could understand Samuel''s decision, and now Nate''s. So, all Jack

said

was, "What do you want me to do?"

Nate nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy

around

the world - let him get his fill of it, until he''s ready to come back

here

and take over. Two - give me the fourth request.

"I can''t just decide to die, not any more than you can. I won''t even

die of

old age like you eventually will, even though it''ll be a long time from

now.

I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, I''ll

be

able to die. And I need you to kill me.

"I''ve even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs won''t work on me.

And

I''ve seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for

days, so

that''s out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword.

Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind.

"I''d

say an axe, but that''s somewhat undignified - putting my head on the

ground

or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of

going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should

work,

even on me.

"You willing to do that for me, Jack?" Nate turned back to look at Jack.

"Yeah, Nate," replied Jack solemnly, "I think I can handle that."

Nate nodded. "Good!" He turned back toward the dune and shouted, "Sammy!

Jack''s about ready to leave!" Then quietly, "Thanks, Jack."

Jack didn''t have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to

make it

back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then

headed into the desert with Sammy following.

Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate

through

e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting

every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a

natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up

acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed

to

keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were

nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted

a

few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to

startle

them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a

few

wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever

hit the

newspapers or the public in general.

When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try

some

undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy

finally

drew the line at visiting Antarctica. He''d come to realize that Jack was

stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out

that

Jack probably didn''t want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that

humans

could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances.

So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didn''t have a foot) and

told

Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties

from

his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back

to

Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more

by

getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, he''d learned

as

much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was

definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was

time to

head back and see Nate.

When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where

he

and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up

Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert.

When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those

years ago when he''d met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didn''t really feel

like

walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but he''d forgotten to

figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. They''d

either

have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the

dark.

As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his

resolve, he decided that he''d go ahead and drive the RV out there. It

was

only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks

afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if

they

drove, and then they could get it over tonight.

Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of

sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed

out

into the desert.

Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been

nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek

beds,

revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came

to

the dunes, Jack didn''t really think about it, he just downshifted and

headed

up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that he''d

decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing

traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying

to

keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down

the

other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up

and

laughing at Jack''s driving.

As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack

saw

that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate,

waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but he''d gone a little too far.

The RV

started slipping down the other side.

Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didn''t have enough traction. He

pumped

the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and

faster.

Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were

heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course

for

it. If Jack didn''t do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to

end

humanity.

Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasn''t

working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split

second,

Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone

around the

lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before

he hit

the lever - he wouldn''t have time to stop, but he should be able to

steer

away.

Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a

little bit - every little bit would help. He''d have to time his turn

just

right.

The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the

sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check

that

they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed

something

else that he hadn''t seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasn''t wrapped

around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the

stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same

side of

the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The

RV

was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across

the

sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around

the

lever to the other side.

Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit

the

lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy

realized the same thing.

Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the

stone.

Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, "BETTER NATE THAN

LEVER," he ran over the snake.

THE END

* * * *

* * * *

* * * *

* * * *

PLEASE READ:

This joke was also a  personality profile test...

 

It was the subject of a recent Educational Psychology Master''s Thesis,

soon to be published, which investigated the way that someone responds to a

webpage such as this  correlates to certain personality

tendencies.

The

research confirmed a statistically significant correlation which

strongly suggests a dependably predictive positive relationship between

how a person responds to this page and certain aspects of his or her

psychological profile. Thus, it is called the Personality Profile Assessment

Test Hypothesis.

While the actual results looked at several

complex factors, and depended heavily on questionnaires filled out by

volunteers upon completion of their experience, I will simplify the

results by discussing three main groups and their profiles. While these

profiles may not be exactly fitting of each person within each group,

they do strongly suggest a statistically significant likelihood of

profile similarity.

11% of those who see this page take

their time, enjoying the joke as they read it, enjoying the build up to

the punch line, and even if the punch line itself wasn’t

particularly

humorous, they tended to enjoy the process.

56% begin

scroll down to the punch line either before starting to read the joke

or within a short period of time- usually 20 seconds or less. The vast

majority of this group choose not to read the joke.

33% read

at least 1/3 of the joke, with the intention of reading it all, but

then begin to question their decision and the investment of time they

are making. They go back and forth between deciding to continuing or to

skip to the end (this vacillating may be unconscious at the time, and

happen in a matter of moments). The vast majority in this group give up

before finishing ½ of the joke, and scroll to the end.

People in

the first group, who read the entire joke, tend to enjoy the journey of

life, and take their time as they move towards a goal. When traveling,

they tend to thoroughly enjoy the process, and are not uptight or

stressed about single-mindedly getting to their destination. 

They also

tend to be very attentive, patient and long lasting lovers, and enjoy

intimacy and physical connectivity whether or not it is carried to

completion.

Those in the second group, who scroll to the end

before reading more than a few sentences of the joke, tend to avoid

surprises and the unknown. They prefer to have a regular schedule and

not to step out of their routine. They tend to be efficient, but are

often lacking in enjoyment, spontaneity and passion. They tend to be

less patient and more interested in the destination than the journey.

When on a trip, they tend to focus on getting where they are going,

rather than enjoying the process. During intimacy, they tend to not be

able to enjoy it unless they are certain it will be taken to

completion.  The idea of just “playing

around” a while, engaging in

physical intimacy without the promise of full completion is, rather

than simply enjoyable and connective, considered to be

“cruel” and a

“teasing” and is met with resentment. This

group’s ability to enjoy

depends largely on their need to know what is going to happen. They

tend to be more self-focused lovers, and tend not to last very long in

satisfying the other partner if their own satisfaction has happened or

is within easy reach.  

The third group, who decided not to

read the entire joke after reading a third or more of it, tend to be

commitment-phobic and lack the ability to move forward to completion

when things become challenging. They are often procrastinators and

frequently give up on tasks when they become more difficult. They tend

to prefer to have big dreams than act on them in the real, challenging

world. A significantly higher percentage of this group had Cesarean

birth, and may not have had the benefit of that early experience of

struggle and effort being rewarded with accomplishment. This group

tends to not take big vacations which would take more effort to plan

and implement, and tends to stay close to home or even stay home during

time off. Promotions and career moves which are within reach but still

require some effort and focus are frequently not fully tried for,

although the perception will be they were passed up.  In

intimate

relationships, this group tends to start out romantic and passionate,

but it quickly fades and is replaced by lackadaisicalness and

indifference, characterized in part by a sense of feeling it is not

worth the effort to continue having a passionate, energized and

complete experience during intimacy. There is a tendency to

“peter out”

both in intimacy and in other aspects of life, and to take the easier

road, even if it leads to a less fulfilling life.

* * * *

Disclaimer: This

summary of the thesis results is not intended in any way to offer

advice or therapy, nor is it intended to infer anything about whether

anyone reading this page does or does not fit the personality profiles

described.   

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[quote user="Colchester Canary"][quote user="hogesar"]Not sure about bigger, but certainly longer:

The Longest Joke in the World* * *Lost in the Desert

[/quote]

More of a short story than a joke!!

[/quote]Isn''t it just!

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[quote user="hogesar"][quote user="Colchester Canary"][quote user="hogesar"]Not sure about bigger, but certainly longer:


The Longest Joke
in the World

* * *
Lost in the Desert


[/quote]

More of a short story than a joke!!

[/quote]

Isn''t it just!
[/quote]

lol blimey that was a whopper

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[quote user="WeAreYellows49"][quote user="hogesar"][quote user="Colchester Canary"][quote user="hogesar"]Not sure about bigger, but certainly longer:


The Longest Joke
in the World

* * *
Lost in the Desert


[/quote]

More of a short story than a joke!!

[/quote]

Isn''t it just!
[/quote]

lol blimey that was a whopper

[/quote]

Where have I heard that before [;)]

 

 

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[quote user="nutty nigel"][quote user="WeAreYellows49"][quote user="hogesar"][quote user="Colchester Canary"][quote user="hogesar"]Not sure about bigger, but certainly longer:


The Longest Joke
in the World

* * *
Lost in the Desert


[/quote]

More of a short story than a joke!!

[/quote]

Isn''t it just!
[/quote]

lol blimey that was a whopper

[/quote]

Where have I heard that before [;)]

 

 

[/quote]

lol dunno you tell me hehehe [:D]

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Mad Madge and his wife are lying in bed listening to the next door neighbour''s dog.
The dog has been in the backyard barking for hours and hours. Madge jumps up out of bed and says, ''I''ve had enough of this''

He goes downstairs.

When he finally comes back up to bed and his wife says, ''The dog is still barking, what have you been doing?''

Madge says, ''I''ve put the dog in our backyard, let''s see how they like it.''

 

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lol very good NN [:)]

 

A Son asks his Dad the difference between "theoretically" and "realistically". Dad says "that''s hard, but I have an idea. Ask Mum if she would sleep with the milkman for one million pounds". Mum says "yes". Dad says "Now ask your sister if she''ll sleep with the coalman for two million pounds". Sister says "Yes". "Well there you go Son, that''s your answer, theoretically we''re sitting on three million pounds, but realistically we''re living with two slags

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