Humor #793

Boyfriend: Honey, on this Valentine’s Day, I want to tell you something… I’m not rich like Robert. I don’t have a mansion like Gary. I don’t have a Porsche like Martin. But I do love you and I want to marry you.

Girlfriend: Oh dear, I love you too! What was that you said about Martin?

—–

A stranded motorist knocked on the door of an inn named “George and the Dragon.”

“Could you spare a poor stranded motorist a bite to eat?” he asked the woman who answered the door.

“No!” she screamed, slamming the door.

A few seconds later he knocked again. The same woman answered the door.

“Could I please have a bite to eat?” he asked again.

“Get out, you good-for-nothing!” shouted the woman. “And don’t you ever come back!”

After a few minutes there’s another knock at the door. The woman comes to the door.

“Pardon,” said the motorist, “but could I have a few words with George this time?”

—–

Although we were being married in New Hampshire, I wanted to add a touch of my home state, Kansas, to the wedding.

My fiancee, explaining this to a friend, said that we were planning to have wheat rather than rice thrown after the ceremony.

Our friend thought for a moment. Then he said solemnly, “It’s a good thing she’s not from Idaho.”

—–

A mother and a daughter are shopping in the mall, when the mother eyes an expensive fur coat.

“This year,” she says, “I think that I will buy my present instead of making you and dad shop for me.”

The daughter nods in agreement.

“And I think this fur coat would be perfect too,” the mother continued.

The daughter protests, “But mom, some poor, helpless creature had to suffer so that you can have this.”

“Don’t worry Honey,” says the mother, “your father won’t get the bill for a couple of weeks.”

—–

On a long drive from Virginia, I thought I was traveling at a reasonable speed, but the flashing blue lights in my rearview mirror made me realize that I’d been over the limit. I handed the officer my license and made small talk while my wife dug through the glove compartment for the registration.

“I’m usually very careful about my speed,” I told him as my wife handed me the paperwork.

The officer studied it and then gave it back. “Sir,” he said gruffly, “this is not your registration.”

Apparently I had handed him a warning ticket that I had received for speeding in South Carolina.