Flea on the beach
A flea had oiled up his little flea legs and his little flea
arms, had spread out his blanket, and was proceeding to soak up
the Miami sun when an old flea friend of his stumbled down the
beach.
"Oscar, what happened to you?", asked the flea, because Oscar
looked terrible, wrapped up in a blanket, his nose running, his
eyes red, and his teeth chattering. "I got a ride down here in
some guy's mustache and he rode his Harley down here! I
nearly froze my nuts off," wheezed Oscar.
"Let me give you a tip, old pal," said the first flea, spreading
some more suntan oil on his shoulders. "You go to the
stewardess lounge at the airport, see, and you get up on the
toilet seat, and when an Air Florida stewardess comes in to take
a leak, you hop on for a nice warm ride. Got it?"
So you can imagine the flea's surprise when, a month or so
later, while stretched out all warm and comfortable on the
beach, who should he see but Oscar - looking more chilled and
miserable than before. "Listen," said Oscar, "I did everything
you said. I made it to the stewardess lounge and waited till a
really cute one came in, and made a perfect landing and got so
warm and cozy that I dozed right off."
"And so?" asked the first flea. "And so the next thing I know,
I'm on this guy's mustache again!"
Karin |
