I drove my brother to the local drugstore this afternoon. Since there was nothing there I needed nor even wanted I just wandered the aisles for a while. I steered well clear of the make-up, shampoo, hair dyes, scented candles and o-t-c miracle cures and moseyed on down the toy aisle. There were a couple of little boys poking about looking at the latest bubble-packed toys.
I was looking at one of those newfangled, self-inflating Whoopee Cushions – the only one left hanging on the display rack.
One of the boys stepped over to me and said:
“Somebody broke it. They took that thing out.” (indicating the one-way valve)
Sure enough; someone had poked through the packaging and ripped out the valve.
I gave the Whoopee Cushion a little squeeze, and of course, it didn’t make a sound.
“Broke, huh?” I said.
I looked down at the boy and said:
“That’s not funny – that’s not funny at all.”
Looking up at me he had an odd crinkle in his eyes as if to say:
“Am I supposed to laugh?”
It is a verity: a broken Whoopee Cushion just isn’t funny – it’s not funny at all.