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| Laughter,the Best Medicine |

At a boat-rental concession, the manager went to the lake's edge and yelled through his megaphone, "Num­ber ninety-nine, come in, please. Your time is up." Several minutes passed, but the boat didn't return. "Boat num­ber ninety-nine," he again hollered, "return to the dock immediately or I'll have to charge you overtime."

"Something is wrong here, boss," his assistant said. "We have only sev­enty-five boats. There is no number ninety-nine."

The manager thought for a mo­ment and then raised his megaphone. "Boat number sixty-six," he yelled. "Are you having trouble out there?"

—Contributed by Roger F. Pittcngcr

"I reckon my neighbor has been makin' another batch of moonshine this week," remarked one mountain­eer to another.

"How you figger that?"

"His rabbits have been over here abusin' my coon hounds again."

—Dixie Yarns

Homer Hatfield, an 84-year-old, had just returned from a trip to Paris. "I wish I'd done it forty years ago," he confided to a friend.

"You mean, when Paris was really Paris?"

"No,  when  Hatfield   was  really Hatfield!"

—Kenneth E. Hall in The Saturday Evening Post

Unfulfilled prophecies:

•    "The place will be crawling with
great-looking girls."

•    "When it says empty, there are
always a couple of gallons left."

•    "Counting drinks and tip, you'll
pay thirty dollars tops."

•    "They'll feel wonderful once you
break them in."

•    "We're bringing it in right under
budget."

•    "You can assemble it yourself in
minutes."

•    "It won't feel cold once you dive
in."

•    "You'll  housebreak  him  in  no
time."

—Quoted by Bill Haupt in Lodi, Wis., Enterprise

As two priests traveled along a country road, the first was remonstrat­ing with the second about his habit of constantly interrupting himself.

"Tell you what I'll do," said the first priest. "I'll wager you my horse that you won't be able to recite the 'Our Father' through to the end with­out stopping."

The other agreed to the bet and started  the   prayer.   About  halfway

illustration: steve delmonte

45

READER'S DIGEST

through, he looked up and asked, "Do I get the saddle too?"

—Quoted by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen on "Life Is Worth Living," Dumont TV

"Your husband seems to know a lot about music," said a woman to her friend.

"Are you kidding? He doesn't know his brass from his oboe!"

—Don Reber in Reading, Pa., Times

 acob was digging a well in the Israeli desert, and he discovered a cas­ket containing a mummy. After exam­ining the artifact, he excitedly called

the curator of a museum in Jerusalem. "I've found the body of a three-thou­sand-year-old man who died of heart failure!" he exclaimed proudly.

"There is no way you could know these details," insisted the curator. "But bring it in, and we'll see."

A week later Jacob received a call from the museum. "You were right about the mummy's age and cause of death," the curator said. "How did you arrive at these conclusions?"

"Well," Jacob replied, "the man's right hand was clenched around a piece of paper that looked like a ticket. On it was written: 'ioo shekels on

Goliath.' "        —Contributed by Guy S. Jones

"That was close!" exclaimed the surgeon as he left the operating room.

"What do you mean?" asked a nurse.

"An inch either way and I would have been out of my specialty!"

—The Toastmaster'i Treasure Chest, edited by Herbert V. Prochnow and Herbert V. Prochnow, Jr. (Harper & Row)

Mary and Mick had been good friends for years. Each night after she closed her shop, Mary would go to Mick's place, cook their dinner, wash up and return to her home. One eve­ning after this had gone on for 30 years, she said, "Mick, it's about time we got married."

"Oh, Mary," Mick sighed. "Who'd

have US?"                   —Contributed by Amy Eason

Reporter: "Mr. Jones, you're a self-educated man. How did you manage to do all that reading during those busy years?"

Mr. Jones: "Simple. I kept an open book on my desk, and read it whenev­er someone on the phone said, 'Just a

moment, please.' "     —Helen Daley in Gtobe

So many things went wrong in his life that the fellow thought he was a loser. He started seeing a psychiatrist to work on improving his self-image.

One morning he rushed into his doctor's office, shouting, "I'm not a loser anymore, Doc. I just dropped my English muffin on the kitchen floor. Look, it landed butter side up!"

The psychiatrist examined the evi­dence and then, with a sigh, handed it back. "Stanley," he said gently, "you buttered the wrong side."

—James Dent in Charleston, W. Va., Gazelle

Have you a joke for "Laughter, the Best Medicine"? See page 4.