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Thread: The Lame Jokes Thread

Results 1,601 to 1,680 of 1682
  1. #1601
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    I auditioned for Britain's Got Talent when it visited Cardiff. But, shockingly, I was turned down.
    That's right, my signature 'balancing a Mars Bar on my head for ten minutes' failed to impress Simon Cowell.
    He said, "Sorry, but Osama Bin Laden's had a Bounty on his head for eight years."

  2. #1602
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    I woke up this morning and forgot which side the sun rises from.

    Then it dawned on me.

  3. #1603
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    Quote Originally Posted by gujar View Post
    mark had always been a very hirsute individual and his silky, smooth body hair had always proved a stumbling block for him in his quest to socialise fully.

    He was convinced one day to come out to the local pub by his best friend dave.

    Upon them entering the pub, the barman remarked, 'who does that ape belong to?'

    'he's not an ape, he's my friend and he has feelings!' shouts dave angrily.

    Those were the last words uttered by anyone present in the pub as an escaped gorilla mauled everyone in the building to death.
    omg

  4. #1604
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    If you lay all your veins in your body side by side along the ground, you would die.

  5. #1605
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    Your teeth are so yellow the sun didn't come out today.


    "Champions are made from something they have deep inside them: A desire, a dream, a vision."

  6. #1606
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    I received a bill in the post today from British Gas telling me that my last bill was outstanding.

    So I rang them up to say thanks and when do I receive my certificate?

  7. #1607
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    Quote Originally Posted by Tiger T View Post
    I received a bill in the post today from British Gas telling me that my last bill was outstanding.

    So I rang them up to say thanks and when do I receive my certificate?
    Haha good one lol


    A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything.

    Malcolm X

  8. #1608
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    One day, a man was considering his life and said, 'i wish i could help people'. After much deliberation he decides to run for local parliament. Unexpectedly, he wins in a landslide victory. After a week on the job he has completely eradicated unemployment. He has decreased crime by 80% and improved the standard of living dramatically.

    But he thinks to himself, 'I could do more for the world'. So he decides to run for state parliament. Once again, he wins by a hefty margin. So he gets to work, and within the month the entire state is out of the economic crisis, unemployment is at 0.5% and crime is at an all time low.

    But still, he feels that it is not enough. By the years end he has become Prime-minister, Halfed the countries carbon footprint, lowered taxes, and created the highest standard of living in the entire world.

    Now, he feels that he has helped his country enough, so he decides to retire, settle down, spend more time with his family.

    One day, during his retirement, he decides to go to the pub for a well earned drink. Once there, he discovers across a huge line, and thinks to himself, 'you know, im pretty sure there is a bottle shop around the corner, ill go there instead'. So off he goes. As it happens, there is also a huge line there aswell. Now he is quite thirsty, he really would like a drink.

    Getting impatient, he thinks, 'okay, a new place just opened up down the road that sells punch. It's relatively unheard of, so surely there wont be a line'. So he walks down the road, heads into the shop.

    Turns out there's no punch line.

  9. #1609
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    ^^^ long jokes like that make ppl angry, lols

  10. #1610
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    When I hear different accents I think differents thing

    When I hear an Australian accent I think of sport
    When I hear an Italian accent I'm thinking food
    When I hear an Indian accent I think I'm about to be put on hold -


    Hahaha

    Live at the Apollo


    Why am I even on this forum, I don't even watch cricket.

  11. #1611
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    Harold was running late for work one morning when he got stuck behind an old man on a narrow country road doing 40mph on a 50mph speed limit.

    'I wish I was in front of this car,' he muttered to himself.

    Out of nowhere a genie appeared.

    'Your wish is my command!' he boomed.

    By magic, Harold was suddenly in front of the car. He was killed seconds later as he was struck by the old man in his car. The genie had misunderstood his request and had only moved Harold ahead of traffic and not his vehicle.

  12. #1612
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    Brilliant

  13. #1613
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    As I knocked back drink after drink the concerned barmaid asked, "Are you ok, sir?"

    "My son would have been two today..." I sobbed.

    "Oh, I'm sorry," She replied, "Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

    "He was born a day late," I replied, "Now I've got to go to his stinking birthday party tomorrow instead of playing golf with the lads."

  14. #1614
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    A priest had just placed some flowers on the graveof his dearly departed mother and started back toward his car when his attention was diverted to another man kneeling at agrave. The man seemed tobe praying with profound intensity and kept repeating, “Why did you have to die? Why did you have to die?” The priest approached him and said, “Sir, I don’t wish to interfere with your privategrief, but this demonstration of pain is more than I’ve ever seen before. For whom do you mourn so deeply? A child? A parent?” The mourner took a moment to collect himself, then replied, “My wife’s first husband.”


    pak sar zameen zindabad

  15. #1615
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    A Kenyan dies and goes to hell. There he finds that there is a different hell for each country.
    He goes to the German helland asks, "What do they dohere?" He is told,"First they put you in an electric chair for an hour.
    Then they lay you on a bed of nails for another hour. Then the German devil comes in and whips you for the rest of the day."
    The man does not like the sound of that at all, so he moves on. He checks out the USA hell as well as the Russian hell and many more. He discovers that they are all more or less the same as the German hell.
    Then he comes to the Kenyan hell and finds that there is a long line of people waiting to get in.
    Amazed, he asks, "What do they do here?"
    He is told, "First they put you in an electric chair for an hour. Then they lay youon a bed of nails for another hour. Then the Kenyan devil comes in andwhips you for the rest of the day."
    "But that is exactly the same as all the other hells -why are there so many people waiting to get in?"
    "Because maintenance is so bad that the electric chair does not work, someone has stolen all thenails from the bed, and the devil is a former goverment servant, so he comes in, signs the register and then goes to the canteen..."


    pak sar zameen zindabad

  16. #1616
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    A policeman passes a parking lot around midnight and notices a couple in a parked car. He stops to investigate and sees a man in the driver's seat and a young lady in the backseat, quietly reading a magazine.
    The officer knocks on the window and asks whats going on.
    "Listening to music," the guy says.
    Pointing toward the lady inthe backseat, the officer asks, "And what's she doing?"
    "Reading a magazine, of course."
    "How old are you?" asks the officer.
    "I'm 28."
    "And how old is she?"
    The guy looks at his watchand says, "Well in 11 minutes she'll be 18


    pak sar zameen zindabad

  17. #1617
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    Quote Originally Posted by Tiger T View Post
    As I knocked back drink after drink the concerned barmaid asked, "Are you ok, sir?"

    "My son would have been two today..." I sobbed.

    "Oh, I'm sorry," She replied, "Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

    "He was born a day late," I replied, "Now I've got to go to his stinking birthday party tomorrow instead of playing golf with the lads."
    Belongs in funny jokes thread


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  18. #1618
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    A drunkard enters a bus and realizes his
    wallet went missing.
    Drunkard: Somebody has stolen my wallet!
    If I don’t find it, same thingthat happened
    in 1978 will repeatitself today.
    Passengers began to wonder and fear for their life. The pick-pocketer got so scared
    and worriedly droped it on da floor where
    it was found during ''frisking''.
    The drunkard checked andall the contents
    were still there.
    A curious girl asked, “Sir, what happened in 1978?"
    .
    .
    .
    .
    .
    Drunkard: Somebody had picked my wallet
    and I had to walk all the way home.


    pak sar zameen zindabad

  19. #1619
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    ^^what happened in 1978 ^^

  20. #1620
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    Chelsea fans have agreed to sign a contract extension with the club after the Champions League victory. They had been strongly linked with a move to Manchester City.


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  21. #1621
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    Why did Stewart Downing cross the road?

    He didn't; he can't cross that either.


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  22. #1622
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    What do you call a Manchester City fan?

    An ex Manchester United, Arsenal and Chelsea fan.


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  23. #1623
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    There are now 5 Liverpool players in the England squad, more than any other team. And people why are England ****?


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  24. #1624
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    I think Owen Hargreaves deserves a pat on the back for his work at Man City. Not too hard though, he might get injured.


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  25. #1625
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    Owen Hargreaves was all set to sign a new deal with Man City but when handed the paper, he got a REALLY nasty paper cut and was sidelined for 8 weeks, which is when City lost patience.


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  26. #1626
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    It's a good job pets can't talk. They've seen way too much.


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  27. #1627
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    Advert says: Domino's pizza - NOW MADE WITH REAL CHEESE!

    Can anyone tell me what the heck I was eating before?


    19 Titles - There's only one United

  28. #1628
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    I saw a man commit suicide by jumping off a building. He died instantly when his body smashed into the pavement.

    "What a tragic waste of a life," I thought, as I noticed a passing parking attendant.

  29. #1629
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    Biviyan Aati hain, HEER ki tarha.
    Meethi hoti hain, KHEER ki tarha.
    Namkeen hoti hain, PANEER ki tarh
    Aur Phir Kuch Maah Baad ...

    Chubhti hain, TEER ki tarha.
    Hukm Chalati hyn, Peer ki Tarha.
    Waadey krti hyn kisi, Wazeer ki tarha
    Kar deti hain haal, FAQEER ki tarha.
    Nazar rakhti hain, Express k Shabbeer ki tarah.
    aur Phir
    Shohar k haathon MAARI jati hain, BE-NAZIR Ki Tarah......!


    Poll: Who would you pick as ODI bowler: Afridi, Kumble, Harby or Vettori? Click here for the result

  30. #1630
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    1 American karachi aya.
    Woh taxi ma betha jis ka driver pathan tha.
    American:Ye Qaid -e- Azam ka mazar kitney din mai bana hai,

    pathan: 1 maah mai,

    American: Ye humarey mulk mai to 2 weeks mai ban jata hai

    Thora agy jane k bad phir Poucha: Ye state life building kitny din mai bani hai?

    pthan: Sirf 2 weeks mai

    American: Humary mulk mai to 3 days mai ban jati hai.

    Habib bank plaza k pas sey guzry to American ne poucha: Ye bulding kitney din mai bani hai?

    Pathan Pata nhi subha to nhi the :p


    Afridi 0 (1) . Legend!

  31. #1631
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    Bought a jar of salad cream yesterday, on getting home, I read the sell by date.... 21-12-12...guess it must be Mayannaise.......


    Misbah= PCB Chairman, Selector, Batting Coach, Fielding Coach, Bowling Coach. What a man!

  32. #1632
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    Quote Originally Posted by W63L35 View Post
    Biviyan Aati hain, HEER ki tarha.
    Meethi hoti hain, KHEER ki tarha.
    Namkeen hoti hain, PANEER ki tarh
    Aur Phir Kuch Maah Baad ...

    Chubhti hain, TEER ki tarha.
    Hukm Chalati hyn, Peer ki Tarha.
    Waadey krti hyn kisi, Wazeer ki tarha
    Kar deti hain haal, FAQEER ki tarha.
    Nazar rakhti hain, Express k Shabbeer ki tarah.
    aur Phir
    Shohar k haathon MAARI jati hain, BE-NAZIR Ki Tarah......!
    ^^
    Good one.


    For Karachiites

    Kaisay Bataoon Key Tum Meri Kaun Hoo
    Walls Ki Ice Cream Ho Polka Ki cone Ho,
    Kesey Bataoon Key Tum Poorani Dheet Ho
    Aik Bohat Bari Phateek Ho ,
    Tum Orangi Tum, Korangi Tumhe Ho Meri Nagan Chowrangi
    Liyari Ki Tum Football Ho, Kimari Ka Tum Bund Ho,
    Manora Ki Tum Thand Ho,
    Tum Kharadar, Tumhe Methadar, Tumhe Meray Liye Goolimar Ho,
    Tumhe Meri Kurti Aur Shalwar Ho ,
    Tumhe Gutka, Tumhe Menpoori, Tumhe Mix Patti Ka Pan Ho,
    Kaisey Bataon Tumhay Key Tum Meri Koon Ho,
    Lalookhait Main Rehti Ho , Khud Ko Defence Ka Kheti Ho,
    Lambi Lambi Chorti Ho , Hamesha Sey Khowar Karte Ho ,
    Sardi Ka Bhokhar Ho, Shikarpur Ka Achar Ho, Peshawar Ki Naswar Ho,
    Aur PIA ka Jahaz Ho, Jo Kabhi Waqt Par Nahi Milti Woh Parwaz Ho ,
    Jo Hamesha Short Rehti Hai Wo Piyazzz Ho ,
    Mahengai Kay Is Dor Mey Sawa Rupey Ki Niyaz Ho ,
    Aur Mera Tum Aghaz Ho, Aur Mera Anjam Ho,
    Mera Public Evening Special Ho, Mera Parcham, Mera Awaam Ho ,
    Tumhe Jurat, Tumhe Ummat, Tumhe Jasarat, Tumhe Nowaey Waqt Ho
    Mera Jang Tum Ho, Mera Aman Tum Ho,
    The News Ho Ya Dawn Ho, Kesey Batao Key Tum Meri Kon Ho ,
    Key Main Rokta Bus Tum Ko Hoon, Main Tookta Bus Tum Ko Hooon,
    Tumhe Mera Kal Theen, Tumhe Mera Aaj Bhi Ho ,
    Tumhe Marshal law, Tumhe Jamhoriat, Tumhe Governer Raj Ho ,
    Tumhe Meri TT ,Tumhe Mera Repeater, Tumhe Mera Rokket Lunchar Ho ,
    Tumhe Meri Soch Ho, Meray Paaon Ki Moch Ho, Aur 9 Rupee Wali coach Ho,
    Tumhe Mera Vespa, Tumhe Mera Raksha, Tumhe Mere Taxi Ho,
    Tumhe Tu Mere Mazda Ho, Tumhe Mera Truck Ho,
    Mera Troller Ho ,Meri Honda 50, Aur Meri 70 Ho,
    Lahore Ka Tanga Ho, Sukhur Ki Suzuki Ho,
    Aur Kya Bataoon Meri Jaan Tum Meray Liya Kya Ho
    Arey Tum Tu Pora PAKISTAN Ho, Karachi Ki Jaan Ho,
    Kaisay Bataoon Key Tum Meray Liye Koon Ho

  33. #1633
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    Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, your body rejected the transplant and you died.

  34. #1634
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    An Eskimo asked the local missionary priest: 'If I did not know about God and sin, would I go to hell ?' 'No', said the priest, 'not if you did not know'. 'Then why', asked the Eskimo earnestly, 'did you tell me?'."


    “In individuals, insanity is rare; but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule”

  35. #1635
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    What do the Indians call our poster W63L35?

    W35L63.



    Visit the 'Time Pass' forum to discuss anything not related to sports!

  36. #1636
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    Quote Originally Posted by DHONI183 View Post
    What do the Indians call our poster W63L35?

    W35L63.

    Should be W0L10000000 if you consider the number of arguments/debates he has been in on PP


    "Because sixes" - hassie110 answering why Afridi and Yuvraj are rated so high

  37. #1637
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    Why Is A Calendar So Sad?

    Because Its Days Are Numbered.

  38. #1638
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    A man on the street meets another guy and ask, "Excuse me sir, you know what time it is?" and the fella stops and replies, "Yes, I know" and starts walking again..
    Last edited by MRSN; 1st April 2013 at 22:21.

  39. #1639
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    What do a cat and a mouse in the rain?


    take Rain bath...

  40. #1640
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    What did one wall say to the other?

    "Meet you at the corner"...

  41. #1641
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    What did Delaware?

    I don't know, Alaska!

  42. #1642
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    Two statisticians go bird hunting. The first one fires at the bird but overshoots by 5 feet. The second one fires and undershoots the bird by 5 feet. They both give each other a high-five and say "Got it!".


    2 possibilities exist: Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are terrifying.

  43. #1643
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    Today,the girl who works next to me in the office came back from lunch and started shouting.
    "What's the matter?" I asked.
    "Somebody left a note on my desk saying, "You're the ugliest woman I have ever seen!"
    "Don't look at me," I said.
    "I wasn't implying it was you, I just-"
    "No seriously, don't look at me; you're hideous."
    Last edited by DHONI183; 7th May 2013 at 09:01. Reason: A word replaced

  44. #1644
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    Why is six afraid of seven? Because seven ate nine. (7,8,9). As lame as it gets.


    'I fear the day when technology will surpass human interaction'
    - Albert Einstein

  45. #1645
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    why are there gates around the cemetery

    ...

    because people are dying to get in


    Those who stand for nothing fall for anything..

  46. #1646
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    Quote Originally Posted by chaiwala View Post
    Asian lady to bank teller: "Why it change?? Yesterday, I get two huned dolla fo yen. Today I get huned eighty?? Why it change?"
    Teller "Fluctuations".
    Asian lady, "Fluc you white people, too"
    Oh lord !!!

    I think I cramped my stomach. Damn you dude, bloody damn you.

  47. #1647
    Debut
    Jan 2006
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    Re: The Lame Jokes Thread

    Quote Originally Posted by Tiger T View Post
    Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day, your body rejected the transplant and you died.
    wow.


    Quote Originally Posted by Saqs
    Mere immoral mortals,
    Mimicking a moral immortal.

  48. #1648
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    * * *
    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


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    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.



    * * * *
    This ends the longest joke in the world. (More than 42 meters long, top to bottom).

    Source:longestjokesintheworld.com
    Last edited by endymion248; 30th May 2013 at 15:46.

  49. #1649
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    hassi ni aayi


    The only disability in life is a bad attitude. -Scott Hamilton

  50. #1650
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    My neighbor Mr. Dubey named his mischievous son Scooby.
    He spent half his time asking people "What did Scooby Dubey Do?"

  51. #1651
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    A Boy was driving a car...

    A girl on scooty overtook him...

    Boy shouted, "Hey Buffalo"

    Girl turned back n shouted..
    "you donkey, idiot,
    stupid monkey"

    Suddenly she had an accident..
    She was hit by a buffalo
    crossing d road...

  52. #1652
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    I live in Canada; My heart lives in Pakistan
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    Quote Originally Posted by endymion248 View Post
    * * *
    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.



    * * * *
    This ends the longest joke in the world. (More than 42 meters long, top to bottom).

    Source:longestjokesintheworld.com
    [/QUOTE]


    "It's more important to try to do something for the crores of poor people of my country." - IK

  53. #1653
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    What's a Gujar's favourite dessert?

    Gujar-rela.


    P.S: Didn't intend to offend, so I hope no-one became insulted by my kind-hearted joke.

  54. #1654
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    The Art teacher gives the students an assignment in class.
    While inspecting she asked Pappu, "What have you drawn?"
    Pappu: That, Ma'm - is a cow grazing.
    Teacher: Where is the grass?
    Pappu: The cow has eaten it.
    Teacher: But where is the cow?
    Pappu: You don't suppose she'd be fool enough to stay there after she'd eaten all the grass, do you?

  55. #1655
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    A lady said to me that she would never visit a Muslim country because they all practice stoning. I told her that this was completely untrue, that we don't practice it at all, we're just all naturally really good at it.

  56. #1656
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    Re: The Lame Jokes Thread

    Lol take a bow sir.


    Quote Originally Posted by Saqs
    Mere immoral mortals,
    Mimicking a moral immortal.

  57. #1657
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    Bravo Old Chap!


    "You're just an honest man with a way with words, how dare they accuse you!" G

  58. #1658
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    Chemistry students would understand.
    Attached Images Attached Images  
    Last edited by saeedhk; 13th October 2013 at 15:53.


    Sehwag And Steyn Are The Best.

  59. #1659
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    The Lame Jokes Thread

    Quote Originally Posted by Gujar View Post
    A lady said to me that she would never visit a Muslim country because they all practice stoning. I told her that this was completely untrue, that we don't practice it at all, we're just all naturally really good at it.
    There's only a subtle difference between the Muslim world and the West.

    In the former, if you commit adultery, you get stoned.

    In the latter, if you get stoned, you commit adultery.

    (This is from Yes Minister/Prime Minister, possibly the best television show in history)


    Tumhari yaad ke jab zakhm bharne lagte hein
    Kisi bahaaney tumhein yaad karne lagte hein

    -- Faiz

  60. #1660
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    I was going to write some of these lame jokes, but then thought they wouldn't be that good.

    - for example, Helium walks into a restaurant, The server says we don't serve noble gases... Helium doesn't react.

    I once read another such chemistry joke, but most of them 'argon'.


    - There are also a few Maths ones as well, one about trigonometry, but it would made this thread go off a tangent.

    PS: It is the lame jokes thread, so they were supposed to be bad

  61. #1661
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    Quote Originally Posted by Supporter of Pak legends View Post
    What's a Gujar's favourite dessert?

    Gujar-rela.
    That was a terrible lamb joke.

    Read again.

  62. #1662
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    My 7 year old asked me this yesterday,

    "What keys can't open a lock?
    ..
    ..
    ..
    Donkeys,,,, Monkeys,,,, and Turkeys."

  63. #1663
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    Quote Originally Posted by DM View Post
    A man walks into a pub.

    He is an alcoholic whose drink problem is destroying his family.
    Quote Originally Posted by Easa View Post
    What did Batman say to Robin to get him in the car?

    Get in the car.



    Quote Originally Posted by DM View Post
    Why did the chicken cross the road?

    To attain the goal of achieving being on the general area of land that was currently several metres away in distance with an intervening longitudinal area of tarmac that is mainly designated for automobile vehicles.
    This thread is high larious

  64. #1664
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    The Lame Jokes Thread

    Q: What do you call a fish with no eye?

    A: Fsssshhhh

    (Eye. i. Sounds better than it reads)


    ____________________
    Say NO to Mullah Raj


    Tumhari yaad ke jab zakhm bharne lagte hein
    Kisi bahaaney tumhein yaad karne lagte hein

    -- Faiz

  65. #1665
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    Knock Knock
    Who's there?
    It's ...
    .. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO'S THERE!

  66. #1666
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    A young student, who was brilliant at studies, always aced his exams.

    He gets the first position in grade 1. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He achieves the first position in grade 2. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He becomes the topper of his grade in grade 3. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He aces his exams in grade 4 with a percentage of 99. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He gets the first position in grade 5. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He tops his grade again in grade 6 and wins prizes in several co-curricular activities. He still doesn't get his desired gift.

    He crosses the limits by achieving a record percentage of 99.9 in grade 7, yet he doesn't get his wish.

    He wins all the competitions at school in grade 8. He is denied again by his father.

    He is the topper of his grade in grade 9 but his father still doesn't listen to him.

    He does the same in grade 10 and finally, his father takes him to a showroom. They pick a beautiful car and will buy it at a later date. They decide to return to home but they meet with an accident on the way and die at the spot.

    Moral of this joke is:

    Guess!


    Guess again!


    ...

    Look around before you cross the road so you don't meet accidents.

    Last edited by Pakistani_Legend; 3rd July 2014 at 12:37.


    It always seems impossible until it is done.

  67. #1667
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    Quote Originally Posted by Pakistani_Legend View Post
    A young student, who was brilliant at studies, always aced his exams.

    He gets the first position in grade 1. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He achieves the first position in grade 2. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He becomes the topper of his grade in grade 3. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He aces his exams in grade 4 with a percentage of 99. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He gets the first position in grade 5. He asks his father to buy him a blue car(real). His father says that he is too young for it.

    He tops his grade again in grade 6 and wins prizes in several co-curricular activities. He still doesn't get his desired gift.

    He crosses the limits by achieving a record percentage of 99.9 in grade 7, yet he doesn't get his wish.

    He wins all the competitions at school in grade 8. He is denied again by his father.

    He is the topper of his grade in grade 9 but his father still doesn't listen to him.

    He does the same in grade 10 and finally, his father takes him to a showroom. They pick a beautiful car and will buy it at a later date. They decide to return to home but they meet with an accident on the way and die at the spot.

    Moral of this joke is:

    Guess!


    Guess again!


    ...

    Look around before you cross the road so you don't meet accidents.

    What in the name of sweet Jesus did i just read???


    "Say my name....."

    "......Heisenberg"

    "You're god damn right"

  68. #1668
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    Quote Originally Posted by Donal Cozzie View Post
    What in the name of sweet Jesus did i just read???
    A good way to keep someone busy.


    It always seems impossible until it is done.

  69. #1669
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    I wasted 2 precious minutes of my life to read that junk!


    "It's more important to try to do something for the crores of poor people of my country." - IK

  70. #1670
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    There were 3 cannibals in a car. During a journey one of the cannibals had a heart attack and died. The two living cannibals then ate the dead body. What was the registration number on the car???




    "Say my name....."

    "......Heisenberg"

    "You're god damn right"

  71. #1671
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    Quote Originally Posted by Donal Cozzie View Post
    There were 3 cannibals in a car. During a journey one of the cannibals had a heart attack and died. The two living cannibals then ate the dead body. What was the registration number on the car???



    Good one.


    It always seems impossible until it is done.

  72. #1672
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    Quote Originally Posted by Square Drive View Post


    I wasted 2 precious minutes of my life to read that junk!
    Well done, that was exactly the objective behind that joke.


    It always seems impossible until it is done.

  73. #1673
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    Quote Originally Posted by Pakistani_Legend View Post
    Well done, that was exactly the objective behind that joke.
    Not cool.


    "It's more important to try to do something for the crores of poor people of my country." - IK

  74. #1674
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    Mullah Nasruddin, the Dalai Lama and a rabbi walk into a bar.

    The bartender looks at them and says "what is this, a joke?"


    Tumhari yaad ke jab zakhm bharne lagte hein
    Kisi bahaaney tumhein yaad karne lagte hein

    -- Faiz

  75. #1675
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    Quote Originally Posted by Nostalgic View Post
    Mullah Nasruddin, the Dalai Lama and a rabbi walk into a bar.

    The bartender looks at them and says "what is this, a joke?"
    Very genre savvy bartender that


    "Because sixes" - hassie110 answering why Afridi and Yuvraj are rated so high

  76. #1676
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    f(x) walks into a bar and asks for a drink. The barman declines: "Sorry, we don't cater for functions".


    "The boos I can handle. It's the silence of the educated fans that rankle…" - New Yorker Cartoon

  77. #1677
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    @Donal Cozzie is walking down Dublin's main street. Suddenly a man leaps out at him
    and punches him in the face.
    "There you are, Mick, that'll teach you!", The man shouts.
    But to his attacker's surprise, Donal Cozzie just laughs.
    "So Mick, you're laughing; I'll hit you again!"
    "Ha ha ha!", laughs Donal Cozzie, "the joke's on you. I'm not Mick!"



    I am not one of those who when expressing opinions confine themselves to facts.

  78. #1678
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    The entire family is watching a movie on tv when a suggestive scene comes on air. At the precise moment the power goes out.

    Everybody breathes a sigh of relief because the remote was nowhere to be found.

  79. #1679
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    Quote Originally Posted by 0tt0man View Post
    The entire family is watching a movie on tv when a suggestive scene comes on air. At the precise moment the power goes out.

    Everybody breathes a sigh of relief because the remote was nowhere to be found.
    A typical desi family that is.


    I am not one of those who when expressing opinions confine themselves to facts.

  80. #1680
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    Once a man fell from the branch of a tree ... he looked at the branch angrily and went inside , as he entered the branch manager was already waiting for him but he was amused when he saw that there were two police officers as well ho were waiting for him in the branch ... he asked the branch manager what is the problem? The branch manager said " Sir u cheque got bounced and lady matthews has filed a lawsuit on you " ... the man who was already injured due to the branch went out of the branch and sit on the bench to relax ...

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