The Whoopee Cushion

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.

Whoopee Cushion Self-Inflating

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.

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About The Twentieth Man

Age 67
This entry was posted in Humor, Short Stories, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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