By Rhys Hughes
A SMASHING EXCUSE
A genie lived happily in a green glass bottle until the bottle was accidentally smashed by a meteorite. The genie went on the rampage, getting drunk, taking drugs, starting fires in rubbish tips and stealing food from shops. “I hope you have a good excuse for your deplorable behaviour!” protested the meteorite.
The genie nodded. “Yes I do. I come from a broken home.”
THE HIGHLY QUALIFIED NOSE
An aardvark went for a job interview. “Why do you have apricot jam on your nose?” was the first question.
“It’s a long story,” replied the aardvark.
“Not as long as your nose, I bet!” chuckled the horse who was conducting the interview. Probably he thought he was the first entity to make that joke.
“Look,” said the aardvark reasonably. “I have all the qualities you require in a foreman of a spice factory. I can sniff and retrieve cardamom pods that have rolled under benches; I can sniff and retrieve chillies that have fallen behind jars; I can sniff and retrieve saffron that has—”
“Can you sniff and retrieve this?” cried the horse.
“Huh? Atchoo!!!”
The horse put away the sample of black pepper and pointed at the door with a hoof. “Sorry, I can’t offer you the job. You have a highly qualified nose but when it came to the interview stage you blew it.”
ACTING THE GOAT
A sheep decided to join the theatre. Her first role was to play a goat that got itself stuck at the top of a cliff.
The director told her that she had to convey fear, anguish and despair so convincingly that the people in the audience would believe the scripted predicament was real. But on the play’s opening night, the woolly actress forgot her lines and began laughing.
The director was outraged and rushed onto the stage in full view of the audience. “Start acting the goat!” he cried.
THE WARLORD
A warlord spent all his pocket money on tubes and jars of tomato purée. Because he was a warlord he had very big pockets made from chain mail, so that he could keep maces, knives and hand-axes in them without fear of the sharp spikes and blades making a hole in the fabric and falling out and landing on his foot and injuring it.
Because his pockets were so large, his pocket money was considerable and he was able to purchase enormous amounts of tomato purée. At home he filled ice-trays with the purée and froze them in his freezer until he had many blocks of frozen concentrated tomato pulp. With these blocks, each of which resembled a little brick, he constructed a building at the bottom of the garden. It was a small building with only one room and he used it as storage space for all his garden tools.
A distant relative came to visit him. “What are you doing?” he asked in astonishment, when he saw the tomato purée house, which was beginning to sag in the heat of the sun.
“I’m a warlord,” said the warlord, “and I read in a book of history that in order to be a genuine warlord, one must shed blood. I don’t particularly like blood, so I’m using tomato purée instead. I might shed other kinds of vegetable juices too, if I have the time.”
THE MIDAIR MEETING
Two boomerangs met in midair. They were polite to each other. “How do you do?” said one of them. “Pleased to make your acquaintance!” replied the other. Then there was a brief pause.
“Well, I must be getting back now,” said the first.
“Me too,” added the second.
“I’ve got an idea,” said the first boomerang, who was mischievous and liked to play practical jokes. “Why don’t we swap owners? They’ll never be able to tell the difference. Instead of turning around at this point, you keep going forward and I’ll do the same; and we’ll end up in the hands of new people. That might be a laugh.”
“I’ve got an even better idea,” retorted the second boomerang. “Why don’t we fall in love and get married?”
“I bet that’s what they’re hoping we’ll do! No, I prefer my own idea. I enjoy fooling humans: it’s great fun!”
And so they both continued in a straight line and were caught by hands that hadn’t thrown them. The owners of those hands looked glumly down at the lengths of curved wood and said, “Releasing them into boomerang society hasn’t worked in the way we anticipated. They didn’t meet a mate but changed identity instead. Weird!”
THE EQUATOR’S MISTAKE
The Greenwich Meridian said to the Equator, “Why have you dressed up in that ridiculous outfit? Four paws, a tail, a golden mane and long teeth! I can’t see any good reason for it.”
“I’m expressing what I really am,” came the reply.
“But you’re the Equator! That’s what you really are. I wonder who has been filling your head — not that you have one —with such rubbish? Did you read one of those books again?”
“Yes I did. It was an encyclopaedia. And it told me that the Equator is an ‘imaginary lion that runs around the world’. Now I’m off for my first run of infinity. See you on each lap!”
RHINO COP
A rhinoceros joined the police force. They told him, “First you arrest the criminals and then you charge them.”
He nodded and went off to tackle crime in the big city. He saw a man trying to steal a cabbage in a greengrocer’s and he shouted out that the fellow was under arrest.
“But I was just testing its firmness!” the man replied.
“You’re under arrest anyway,” the rhino said.
“On what charge?” demanded the man.
“On this one!” bellowed the rhino as he charged him.
The cabbage was rescued…
Later, back at the police station, the rhino said, “I had a busy first day at work. I arrested ten criminals and charged all of them, but now there’s no room left on my horn and the blood is trickling into my eyes. Will you remove them for me? Much appreciated!”
POOR VISIBILITY
A gorgon was driving her jaguar through the pouring rain. The jaguar was growling and grumbling because cats don’t like water. “Why don’t you stop at the next settlement and find shelter?” he asked. “If you keep going, you’ll be certain to crash.”
“Crash? Why should I do that?” asked the gorgon.
“Because of the poor visibility!”
“No need for you to worry about that!” answered the gorgon. “I’ve got a set of windscreen vipers on my head.”
THE NEW KNIGHT
“I’ve not seen you at Camelot before,” said Sir Galahad.
“That’s right,” answered the new knight, “I’m just doing a one-off job for King Arthur. He has started using workers who aren’t affiliated with the Round Table. I’m one of those.”
“Oh, I see,” sniffed Sir Galahad. “And you are Sir—?”
“Freelancealot,” came the reply.
ANTIMATTER PASTA
The astronomer removed his eye from the telescope. “I have got some startling news! The sun is going out!”
“Going out? Going out?” came the shocked response. “This is terrible! A catastrophe! You mean to say that…”
“Yes,” replied the astronomer grimly. “It seems that a new restaurant has opened beyond the orbit of Pluto!”
THE FLYING FISH
A shoal of flying fish was swimming through the ocean. Suddenly one of the fish nearest the front shouted, “Our way forward is blocked by a mass of ice! I never expected such a thing!”
“A mass of ice?” cried one of the more experienced members of the shoal. “Oh, I see what you mean…” His name was Lindy and he held the fish record for the longest solo flight.
“Have you seen this before?” asked the first fish.
“Yes, it’s an iceberg,” said Lindy.
“Well, let’s just fly over it! We are flying fish, after all. We can easily re-enter the ocean on the far side.”
“Be careful!” Lindy answered.
“What for? I’ll go first. It will be simple!”
“Not true,” warned Lindy. “You must glide very high when you make the attempt; and so must the fish that follow. Don’t you realise that 10% of an iceberg lies above the water…?”
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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