Your Parrot is dead!

Let’s start 2010 with a little levity!

At dawn the telephone rings, ‘Hello, Senor Bud? This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your country

‘Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?

‘Um, I am just calling to advise you, Senor Bud, that your parrot, he is dead’

‘My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?’

‘Si, Senor, that’s the one.’

‘Damn! That’s a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?’

‘From eating the rotten meat, Senor Bud.’

‘Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?’

‘Nobody, Senor. He ate the meat of the dead horse.’

‘Dead horse? What dead horse?’

‘The thoroughbred, Senor Bud.’

‘My prize thoroughbred is dead?’

‘Si Senor Bud, he died from all that work pulling the water cart.’

‘Are you insane? ? What water cart?’

‘The one we used to put out the fire, Senor Bud.’

‘Good Lord!! What fire are you talking about, man??’

‘The one at your house, Senor! A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire.’

‘What the hell?? Are you saying that my mansion is destroyed because of a candle?? !!’

‘Si, Senor Bud.’

‘But there’s electricity at the house! What was the candle for?’

‘For the funeral, Senor Bud.’


‘Your wife’s, Senor Bud’, she showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief,
so I hit her with your new Taylor-Made R580 golf club.’

SILENCE . . . . . .. . . LONG SILENCE . . . . . . . ..

‘Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you’re in deep shit!!’

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