Koko's Fables

From MonkeyFilter Wiki

The Guy on the Bus

A working woman boarded a crowded Canadian city bus and sat in the only remaining seat, next to a young, unkempt man dozing. The woman, who was a bit prudish, sat very carefully so as not to touch buttocks with the snoring brute. She took out a book and began reading, hugging her elbows in due to the close quarters. As the man slept, he slouched further and further, his legs sliding apart in a most lewd manner. The woman, blushing furiously, inched farther and farther away, but each time she skooched, the rogue’s thigh settled against hers, until she was half into the aisle! As if this wasn’t bad enough, the man’s clothes emanated a most unpleasant funk, as if not having been laundered for many weeks, or perhaps ever. She put a perfumed sleeve to her nose as she balanced half in mid-air and tried to concentrate on her Danielle Steele. When at last his leg slid full up against hers, cheek to cheek, she decided she’d had enough. She laid her sage green yarn bookmark in place and slid the book into her totebag. Then with one quick motion, she grasped the ankle of the offending leg and twisted and pulled upward, neatly removing the leg from the hip joint, as she had seen Emeril do once with a chicken. The man awoke with a start, but before he could protest, she shoved the leg into his mouth, up to the knee. A great ruckus arose around her; one elderly gentleman looked up from his paper, a young lady asked, “did you just-?” and someone pulled the cord for the next stop. The woman looked down at her vanquished tormentor and was astonished to see him chewing! And smiling up at her! When he had finished his leg tartare, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and took the startled woman by the hand. “Thank you, kind lady!” He cried, “for I have been on this bus for days, and so hungry I could not get up to leave! I feared I was at death’s door!” And with that, he threw off his old smelly coat, revealing a finely tailored suit, and with jeweled fingers slid a lambskin wallet from his waistcoat. He peeled out two hundred dollar bills and tucked them between the astonished woman’s bosoms, then hopped neatly off the bus at the next stop.

The moral: Rich people are stupid.

The Coworker

Roger strolled by Marci’s desk and noticed that there was a man sitting where Marci normally sits. “Hey, Marci! You got a haircut! And grew a beard!” said Roger, grinning at his jest. Marci turned around to face Roger. “That’s right, Roger. Thank you for noticing.”

The moral: STFU Roger

The Peanut

A boy sat eating peanuts and watching the television. Absently he scooped up handfuls of salty, oily nuts and tossed them back, occasionally wiping his hands on his pants. A dog looked on. Presently there was only one peanut left, and the boy popped it into his mouth. It was a very bad nut. His mouth was filled with a most foul flavour, and he had no beverage with which to alleviate his suffering. The dog left the room.

The moral: Don’t save the bad nut for last, unless you have Pepsi or something. Probably better to not eat the bad nut at all.

The Gap

A MARMOT was shopping at The Gap, looking for a dark green or maybe blue sweater. He sat back on his hind legs and flipped through the racks with his tiny paws. After a short while, a teenaged employee asked, “help you find something?” To which the marmot replied, “I’m looking for a green or blue sweater, but I can’t find one in my size.” “Probably because you’re a marmot?” was the teen’s response. “Maybe you want Baby Gap!” she added helpfully. “Maybe YOU want Baby Gap!” spat the marmot, and waddled off in a huff. Later, at the Orange Julius counter, the marmot thought of a better riposte. Returning to The Gap, he attempted to engage the teen once again in a conversation about sweaters, but was instead escorted from the store by the manager who was holding a broom. “I’ll Baby Gap you!” cried the marmot towards the teen, but he was already on the street. That wasn’t what he wanted to say either. He started back towards the store, but the manager was glaring at him through the window. The marmot went home dejected and sweaterless.

The moral: Always have a list of comebacks ready, especially if you’re a marmot.