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A teacher gave her class of 11 year olds an assignment: To get their parent to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.

The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

Ashley said, "My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the car when we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs got broken.

"What's the moral of that story?" asked the teacher.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket!"

"Very good," said the teacher.

Next little Brandon raised his hand and said, "Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market. One day we had a dozen eggs, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this story is, 'Don't count your chickens before they're hatched'."

"That was a fine story Brandon."

Michael, do you have a story to share?"

"Yes. My daddy told me this story about my Aunty Sharon. Aunty Sharon was a flight engineer on a plane in the Gulf War and her plane got hit.

She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a bottle of whisky, a machine gun and a machete. She drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then she landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops.

She killed seventy of them with the machine gun until she ran out of bullets. Then she killed twenty more with the machete until the blade broke. And then she killed the last ten with her bare hands."

"Good heavens," said the horrified teacher, "what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"

"Stay the heck away from Aunty Sharon when she's been drinking!"
 
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A little bird flew so high that it started to freeze up, a bit higher then it froze.
It came crashing down to earth and landed in a field dying.
Along came a cow and crapped all over it.
The heat from the crap heated the bird and stopped it dying.
However the little bird then began to choke and drown in the dung.
Along came a cat, who saw the little bird dying, pulled it out with its claws.
Then proceded to lick it clean and the little bird was so thankful.







Whereupon the cat ate the little bird.









Moral of this story ?










Someone who shites on you is not always your enemy.





And someone who pulls you out of the shite is not always your friend.



( The world according to Garp ).
.
 
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