Prelude: Rachmaninoff Op.3, No.2!
Foreword: This story is not a humorous one. I have sent it to The Sundial only because no one else would publish it. It has been rejected by every major outlet. It’s style is thought to be too avant-garde, it’s subject too taboo, it’s emotional impact too volatile. And, however lucky The Sundial is to even be getting a piece of literature this substantial, this historically significant, I understand that it is still a humor magazine, and therefore I have adapted it slightly. I have included, at the end of each paragraph, a randy joke for your enjoyment.
It was December, and snow covered the ground like a white blanket. Oklahoma used to be a happier place this time of year, but the military draft put a damper on everyones’ Christmas. Billy McDonald was one of the people who wasn’t too thrilled about the draft, because he got tagged for the war effort. Poor Billy. He was standing on the porch with his girl, trying to get her all consoled. “I don’t want you to go, Billy,” Suzanne said, sad but as foxy as ever, “I’ll miss you, too much.” “Sorry, babe, but I have to go,” Billy said, and with that he looked up, “to the war.”
Morty comes home to find his wife and his best friend, Lou, naked in bed. Just as Morty is about to open his mouth, Lou jumps out of the bed and says, “Before you say anything, old pal, what are going to believe, me or your eyes?”
Billy was at a training camp. Eat a little. Make the bed. March. Beige and boots. Training camp. The food wasn’t very good, but Billy wasn’t complaining. He sure did miss his girl, though. Meanwhile he was getting ready to fight the Japs. They shot bullets over your head during training, but Billy wasn’t complaining. Whenever Billy was afraid he just thought about his girl, and that made him feel alright. He and a couple of his fellow boys were getting yelled at. “You’re the sorriest bunch o’ yellow bellies, I’ve ever laid eyes on,” the colonel said. “If you don’t straighten up, and tuck in your sheets according to proper procedure you’re gonna get yourselves killed, don’t you understand,” the colonel looked into the distance, “this is war.”
Three women are in a locker room dressing to play racquetball when a man runs through wearing nothing but a bag over his head. The first women looks at his wiener and says, “Well, it’s not my husband.” And the second women says, “No, it isn’t.” The third says, “He’s not even a member of this club.””
War and life are a lot alike, you look around, and you know that not everyone’s going to make it, and you wonder if you will. Billy wondered if he was going to make it. He sat in the trenches, sipping piss from a flask. It tasted like piss. Everything tasted like piss, nowadays, especially piss. Billy didn’t mind the taste, though, he was too busy looking at a picture of his girl. A couple of his army friends had died, and he sat there wondering if he’d ever get to see her again. Just then there was an explosion. It shook Billy up pretty good, and he dropped the picture in the mud. With that he looked up into the grey sky, and muttered to himself, “Damn this war.”
A ninety-year old man went to the doctor and said, “Doctor, my eighteen-year-old wife is expecting a baby.” The doctor said, “Let me tell you a story. A man went hunting, but instead of a gun, he picked up an umbrella by mistake. When a bear suddenly charged at the man, he picked up the umbrella, shot the bear, and killed it.” The man said, “Impossible. Someone else must have shot the bear.” The doctor said, “My point exactly!”
Billy dropped a bomb. He knew that he’d just killed hundreds of Japanese civilians, but all he could think about was his little pumpernickel. Damn she had beautiful eyes. Later, he walked through the town, his socks soaked in blood, staring at the burned up bodies of children. He saw the organs of a Jap sprayed on the ground. The shape of them kind of looked like an ice cream cone. It reminded his of his first date with Suzanne. God, he missed her. A single tear rolled down his cheek. A fellow soldier came up behind him and put his hand on his back, “Don’t take it too hard, soldier,” he said, “If you hadn’t killed him, he’d a killed you.” “No, it’s not that,” Billy said, “I’m just thinking about my girl back home.” “What the fuck,” the soldier muttered as he quickly moved away, “God, damn, I’m sick of all these psycho sons of bitches,” he paused for a moment and looked at the burning skyline of the town, “yup.”
Moses trudges down from Mt. Sinai, tablets in hand, and announces to the assembled multitudes: “I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news. The good news is I got Him down to ten. The bad news is ‘adultery’ is still in.”
He knocked on the door, and when she opened it, she knew that she would never love again. “I’m sorry madam,” the man said, “but Billy McDonald is dead.” Suzanne fell to her knees and began weeping uncontrollably. She wondered whether life was even worth living, without the hope of her sweet Billy ever returning. She decided that it wasn’t. The pain was too great. Her happiness rested on his shoulders, and those shoulders were no more. She knew, in that moment, that the only course of action was to end it all. “He died,” the man said as he looked up at the clouds, “in the war.”
A woman reports her husband’s disappearance to the police. They ask her for a description, and she says, “He’s six feet, three inches tall, well-built, with thick, curly hair.” Her friend says, “What are you talking about? Your husband is fivefeet- four, bald, and has a huge belly.” And she says, “Who wants that one back?”
Source Material: Italicized jokes taken from Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar
-EJS, Contributor