An older lady gets pulled over for speeding...
Older Woman: Is there a problem, Officer?
Officer: Ma'am, you were speeding.
Older Woman: Oh, I see.
Officer: Can I see your license please?
Older Woman: I'd give it to you but I don't have one.
Officer: Don't have one?
Older Woman: Lost it, 4 years ago for drunk driving.
Officer: I see...Can I see your vehicle registration papers please.
Older Woman: I can't do that.
Officer: Why not?
Older Woman: I stole this car.
Officer: Stole it?
Older Woman: Yes, and I killed and hacked up the owner.
Officer: You what?
Older Woman: His body parts are in plastic bags in the trunk if you want to see.
The Officer looks at the woman and slowly backs away to his car and calls for back up. Within minutes 5 police cars circle the car. A senior officer slowly approaches the car, clasping his half-drawn gun.
Officer 2: Ma'am, could you step out of your vehicle please! The woman steps out of her vehicle.
Older Woman: Is there a problem sir?
Officer 2: One of my officers told me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner.
Older Woman: Murdered the owner?
Officer 2: Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please.
The woman opens the trunk, revealing nothing but an empty trunk.
Officer 2: Is this your car, ma'am?
Older Woman: Yes, here are the registration papers. The officer is quite stunned.
Officer 2: One of my officers claims that you do not have a driving license.
The woman digs into her handbag and pulls out a clutch purse and hands it to the officer.
The officer examines the license. He looks quite puzzled.
Officer 2: Thank you ma'am, one of my officers told me you didn't have a license, that you stole this car, and that you murdered and hacked up the owner.
Older Woman: Bet the liar told you I was speeding, too.
Burpus (41), a gardener from Breman, was relating how he had become trapped in his own front door for two days, after losing his house keys. "I got my head and shoulders through the flap and became trapped fast around the waist.
At first, it all seemed rather amusing, I sang songs and told myself jokes. But then I wanted to go to the lavatory. I began shouting for help, but my head was in the hallway so my screams were muffled. After a few hours, a group of students approached me but, instead of helping, they removed my trousers and pants, painted my buttocks bright blue, and stuck a daffodil between my cheeks. Then they placed a sign next to me which said "German resurgent, an essay in street art. Please give generously' and left me there.
"People were passing by and, when I asked for help, they just said 'Very Good! Very Clever!' and threw coins into my trousers. No one tried to free me. In fact, I only got free after two days because a dog started licking my private parts and an old woman complained to the police. The rescue services came and cut me out, but the police arrested me as soon as I was free. Luckily, they've now dropped the charges, and I collected over DM 3,000 ($2,000) in my underpants, so the time wasn't entirely wasted." From "Fire - Rescue " magazine
Inside the closet, the little boy says, "It's dark in here, isn't it?"
"Yes it is" the man replies.
"You wanna buy a baseball?" the little boy asks.
"No thanks," the man replies.
"I think you do want to buy a baseball." the little extortionist continues.
"Ok. How much?" the man replies after considering the position he is in.
"Twenty five dollars, " the little boy replies.
"TWENTY FIVE DOLLARS?" the man repeats incredulously, but complies to protect his hidden position.
The following week, the lover is visiting the woman again when she hears a car in the driveway and, again, places her lover in the closet with her little boy.
"It's dark in here, isn't it?" the boy starts off.
"Yes, it is," replies the man.
"Wanna buy a baseball glove?" the little boy asks.
"OK How much?" the hiding lover responds acknowledging his disadvantage.
"Fifty dollars," the boy replies and the transaction is completed.
The next weekend, the little boy's father says "Hey son. Go get your ball and glove and we'll play some catch."
"I can't. I sold them." Replies the little boy.
"How much did you get for them?" asks the father, expecting to hear the profit in terms of lizards and candy.
"Seventy-five dollars," the little boy says.
"SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?! That's thievery! I'm taking you to the church right now. You must confess your sin and ask forgiveness," the father explains as he hauls the child away.
At the church the little boy goes into the confessional, draws the curtain, sits down, and says "It's dark in here, isn't it?"
"Don't even start that crap in here," the priest replies.
"Hold it, hold it," he said to the men. "Can you tell me what's going on here with this digging?"
"Well, we work for the county," one of the men said.
"But one of you is digging a hole and the other fills it up. You're not accomplishing anything. Aren't you wasting the county's money?"
"You don't understand, mister," one of the men said, leaning on his shovel and wiping his brow. "Normally there's three of us -- me, Rodney, and Mike. I dig the hole, Rodney sticks in the tree, and Mike here puts the dirt back.
"Now, just because Rodney's sick, that don't mean that Mike and me can't work."
And Adam said, "Lord, what is a 'headache?' "
So he looked hard to find a nice place to build a nest that would protect him from the weather, with a southern view, and set about building the super nest.
As the weather changed, he changed his mind and started flying south. His wings iced up, and he fell to the ground in a barnyard, under the business end of a horse. The horse let loose a big blob of manure, right on the top of the bird. The sparrow thought to himself that this is a helluva way to die. But then he got warm, and started singing.
A cat wandered into the barnyard and heard the bird singing. He scratched out the bird, and ate him. The moral to this
1. If someone shits on you, they are not necessarily your enemy.
2. He who digs you out is not necessarily your friend.
3. And if you find a good place in life it ain't necessarily wise to sing about it.
The fairy godmother tells Cinderella that she will provide for her everything she needs to go to the ball, but only on 2 conditions: "First you must wear a diaphragm."Cinderella mouth drops open and she said, "You must be crazy. I'm on the pill, and I don't need to wear a diaphragm." The fairy godmother reminds Cinderella about all the handsome princes that will be attending the ball that night, and Cinderella agrees to wear a diaphragm.
"Well, what's the second condition?" Cinderella asked. The fairy godmother replies, "You must be back home by 2:00AM. "
Well, Cinderella explains that if she is going to party with the princes she wants to be out all night long. The fairy godmother tells Cinderella that if she's not home by 2 AM, then her diaphragm will turn into a pumpkin and reminds her that at least she'll be with the princes most of the evening. Cinderella agrees to be home at 2 AM.
At 2 AM, Cinderella doesn't show up ... at 3 AM, no Cinderella ... 4 AM, no Cinderella... and finally at 5 AM, Cinderella shows up at the door with a huge grin on her face.
The fairy godmother stands up and looks at Cinderella and said, "Where the hell have you been? Your diaphragm was supposed to turn into a pumpkin 3 hours ago.!!!"
Cinderella tells the fairy godmother that she met a prince and he took care of it for her. The fairy godmother wonders about a prince with this type of power and asks Cinderella his name, to which she replied, "I can't remember, but it was Peter Peter something or other."
So the kid started walking into town. He passed the house of "ill repute" and one of the ladies said, "Hey, kid, you want to have some fun?" and the kid said, "I don't have any money, lady, all I have is this duck."
She said, "Well, you're kinda cute. I tell you what--- I'll do it for the duck." The kid said "OK" and they went in for awhile.
A little while later the kid was leaving and he gave her the duck. She said, "Come on back in here and lets do it again. You were great." and the kid said, "I don't have any money and you already got my duck." The lady said, "You were so good that if you can do it as good again I will give the duck back to you." So the kid does it again and he gets his duck back.
As he is leaving the second time a big truck goes by and runs over his duck. The truck driver was so upset that he paid the kid $20.00 for the duck.
The kid got home, and the dad wanted to know how he did with the duck on his birthday. The kid told his dad, "I got a fuck for a duck, a duck for a fuck, and $20.00 for a fucked up duck."
St. Peter asks Dolly if there's some particular reason why she should go to heaven, so she takes off her top and says, "Look at these. They're the most perfect ones God ever created, and I'm sure it will please him to be able to see them every day for eternity."
St. Peter thanks Dolly, and asks Diana the same question. Diana drops her skirt and panties, takes a bottle of Perrier out of her purse, shakes it up, and douches with it.
St. Peter says, "OK, Diana, you may go in. Have a nice day."
Dolly is outraged. she screams, "What was that all about? I show you two of God's own creations, she performs a disgusting, pornographic act, and she gets in and I don't?!???"
St. Peter replies, "Sorry, Dolly, but a royal flush beats a pair any day."
One day a few weeks later, Bill came home absolutely ashen. His wife could see at once that something was seriously wrong.
"What's wrong, Bill?", she asked.
"Do you remember that I told you how I had this tremendous urge to put my penis into the pickle slicer?"
"OH, Bill, you didn't?!?"
"Yes, I did."
"My God, Bill, what happened?"
"I got fired."
"No, Bill. I mean, what happened with the pickle slicer?"
"Oh, ........ she got fired, too."
At the fourth house he was met at the door by a strikingly beautiful woman in a revealing negligee. She took him by the hand, gently led him through the door (which she closed behind him), and led him up the stairs to the bedroom where she blew his mind with the most passionate love he had ever experienced. When he had had enough they went downstairs, where she fixed him a giant breakfast: eggs, potatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles, and fresh squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied she poured him a cup of steaming coffee. As she was pouring, he noticed a dollar bill sticking out from under the cup's bottom edge.
"All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "but what's the dollar for?"
"Well," she said, "last night I told my husband that today would be your last day, and that we should do something special for you. I asked him what to give you. He said, 'Fuck him. Give him a dollar.' The breakfast was my idea."
The lady was escorted up stairs and ushered into the president's office. Introductions were made and she stated that she liked to know the people that she did business with on a more personal level. The president then asked her how she came into such a large amount of money -- "Was it inheritance?" he asked.
"No," she replied. He was quiet for a minute trying to think where she could have come into $3 million.
"I bet," she stated.
"You bet!", repeated the president. "As in horses?"
"No," She replied. "I bet on people."
Seeing his confusion, she explained that she just bets different things with people. All of a sudden she said, "I'll bet you $25,000.00 that by 10 AM tomorrow your balls will be square." The bank president figured that she must be off of her rocker and decided to take her up on the bet. He didn't see how he could lose.
For the rest of the day he was very careful. He decided to stay home that evening and take no chances - there was $25,000.00 at stake.
When he got up in the morning and took his shower, he checked to make sure that everything was ok. There was no difference; he looked the same as he always had. He went to work and waited for the old lady to come in at 10:00, humming as he went. He knew that this would be a good day -- how often do you get handed $25,000.00 for doing nothing?
At 10:AM sharp, the little old lady was escorted into his office. With her was a younger man. She informed the president that the man was her lawyer and that she always took him along when there was a large amount of money involved. "Well," she asked, "what about our bet?"
"I don't know how to tell you this," he replied, "but I'm the same as I always have been, only $25,000.00 richer!" The lady seemed to accept this, but requested that she be able to see for herself. The president thought that this was reasonable and dropped his trousers. She instructed him to bend over, then she grabbed hold of him. Sure enough, everything was fine. The president then looked up and saw her lawyer banging his head against the wall.
"What's wrong with him?" the president asked.
"Oh, him," she replied, "I bet him $100,000.00 that by 10 this morning I would have the president of Chase Manhattan Bank by the balls."
The female says, "Uh... I don't know ..."
He urges, "Come on... it'll be fun. Come on, just this once!"
The female agrees and they swim up under the boat and blow out, capsizing the boat and sending hapless sailors into the briny blue. As they are swimming away, the male says, "Wow! That was fun, wasn't it? -- Hey, I've got another idea! Let's swim back there and eat all the sailors!"
The female, exasperated, replies, "Look, I agreed to the blow job, but I'm not swallowing any seamen."
Much to their surprise, the ball smashed through the window and shattered it into a million pieces. They felt compelled to see what damage was done, so they went to the house to investigate. When they peeked inside the home, they could find no one there. The husband called out and no one answered. Upon further investigation, they saw a gentleman with a turban on his head sitting on the couch.
The wife said, "Do you live here?" He answered, "No, someone just hit a ball through that window, knocked over the vase you see there and freed me from that little bottle. I am so grateful."
The wife said, "Are you a genie?"
"Oh, why yes I am. In fact, I am so grateful, I will grant you two wishes: the third I will keep for myself, " the man replied.
The husband and wife agreed on their two wishes: one was for a scratch handicap for the husband (to which the wife readily agreed), and the other was for an income of $1,000,000 per year forever.
The genie nodded and said, "Done!" The genie then said, "For my wish I would like to have my way with your wife. I have not been with a woman for many years and, after all, I have made you a scratch golfer and a millionaire."
The husband and wife agreed.
After the genie and wife finished, the genie asked the wife, "How long have you been married?" She replied, "3 years." The genie then asked, "How old is your husband?" She replied, "31 years old." The genie then asked, "How long has he believed in this genie bullshit?"
The little string says, "What do you mean you don't serve my kind?"
Bartender says, "I mean we don't serve string at this bar. Now get out."
So the string goes outside and he is very angry. The litttle string says to himself, "I'm not going to take this." Then he roughs himself up and ties a knot in one end of himself.
Next thing the bartender knows, at the end of the bar is a piece of string, so he says to the string, "Aren't you that piece of string that I kicked outta here?"
The string answers, "No. I'm a frayed knot."
(And from Kitten-- Well- I did say a cleanjoke). Hey-- gimme time, OK?
Dopey said, "Santa, I want to ask a question. Tell me, are there any Dwarf Nuns in America?"
Santa said, "No, Dopey. There are no dwarf Nuns in the United States." At that, all the rest of the little dwarves started giggling.
Dopey tugged Santa's trouser leg again. Santa looked down and said, "Yes Dopey? You have another question?"
Dopey nodded, dropped his head shyly, then looked up at Santa and said, "Are there any dwarf Nuns in Europe?"
Santa shook his head and replied, "No, Dopey, I'm sorry, but there are no dwarf Nuns anywhere in the world."
At that, the rest of the dwarves dropped to the floor, rolled over and over, laughing gleefully and holding their little tummies from laughing so hard. Then they started chanting: "Dopey f***ed a Penguin.... Dopey f***ed a Penguin....."
Soon he sees another sign which says SISTERS OF MERCY HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION - 5 MILES and realizes that these signs are for real. When he drives past a third sign saying SISTERS OF MERCY HOUSE OF PROSTITUTION NEXT RIGHT, his curiosity gets the best of him and he pulls into the drive.
On the far side of the parking lot is a somber stone building with a small sign next to the door reading SISTERS OF MERCY. He climbs the steps and rings the bell. The door is answered by a nun in a long black habit who asks, "What may we do for you, my son?"
He answers, "I saw your signs along the highway, and was interested in possibly doing business."
"Very well, my son. Please follow me."
He is led through many winding passages and is soon quite disoriented. The nun stops at the closed door, and tells the man, "Please knock on this door."
He does as he is told and this door is answered by another nun in a long habit and holding a tin cup. This nun instructs, "Please place $50.00 in the cup, then go through the large wooden door at the end of this hallway."
He gets $50.00 out of his wallet and places it in the second nun's cup. He trots eagerly down the hall and slips through the door, pulling it shut behind him. As the door locks behind him, he finds himself back in the parking lot, facing another small sign: GO IN PEACE. YOU HAVE JUST BEEN SCREWED BY THE SISTERS OF MERCY.
The rest of the sperm were yelling at him to come join them. He said, "No. I am going to continue working out. I have been told that when the gong sounds, when we are called up yonder,so to speak, to do our duty, the one who gets there first will be the one who is chosen, and I plan on being the first." The rest of the sperm hooted and hollared at him, but soon lost interest and turned their attention back to the bar. They continues boozing it up, while the lone little sperm continued running the 100 yard dash, chinning the bar. Swimming the many laps in the pool.
Suddenly the gong sounded, the bell rang, and there was a mad dash while everyone jumped into the pool and started swimming up stream. Our little hero sperm was first ahead by a half length, then a full length, and he pulled ahead by two-three-and four lengths.
He paused to look ahead, and suddenly stopped swimming, turned around and met the rest of his friends swimming up stream. He braked (eek eek) and yelled to his friends, "Stop!! Stop!! Turn around. Don't go any farther. It's not what we think.
"IT'S A BLOW JOB !!!!!!! "
The drunk said, a little 12 inch man with a piano." The bartender didn't believe this, so he replied, "Show me. I want to see."
The drunk said, "OK. But it will cost you a drink." "OK," said the bartender, and he poured a drink for the drunk.
The drunk opened the box, and, sure enough, inside was a little man with a baby grand piano. The bartender shook his head in disbelief, knowing that he hadn't even had a drink that day. He shut his eyes, looked again, and said to the drunk, "Can he play the piano?" "Yes," said the drunk, "but it will cost you a drink." The bartender poured another shot into his glass, the drunk downed the drink, and told the little man, "Play him some Mozart."
Sure enough, the pianist played some Mozart. The bartender muttered, "I don't believe this." Then the bartender said, "What's in the bottle?" The drunk said, "A genie lives in the bottle."
The bartender said, "Show me." And, anticipating the need for the drunk to have another drink, he poured another one for him. The drunk struggled to withdraw the stopper from the bottle, and suddenly a big Genie swooshed out of the bottle.
The bartender backed up, then asked the drunk, "Does he grant wishes?" The drunk said "Yes, but it will cost you another drink." The bartender poured another drink for the drunk, and the drunk said to the Genie, "Grant him one wish."
The bartender said, "I want one million bucks, right now, stacked on this bar." And suddenly, the bar was filled with a million ducks. The ducks were flying all over the bar, lighting on the bottles, the bar, the backs of chairs, ALL OVER THE BAR. The bartender said, "God almighty !! Your Genie doesn't hear very well, does he?"
The drunk responded, "No shit !! You really don't think I wished for a 12 inch pianist, do you?"
The teller says, "please just call me "Paddy", everyone does...". The teller asks his name and the frog says his name is Kermit Jagger and that it's ok, he knows the bank manager.
Paddy explains that 30,000 pounds is a substantial amount of money and that he would need to secure some collateral against the loan and asks if the frog has any collateral. The frog says "Sure. I have this" and produces a tiny, perfectly formed, pink elephant, about half an inch tall.
Very confused, Paddy explains that he'll have to consult with the manager and disappears into a back office. He finds the manager and says "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow 30 grand. And he wants to use this as collateral". He holds up the tiny pink elephant "I mean, what the heck is this?"
The bank manager replies "It's a knick knack, Paddy Whack. Give the frog a loan, his old man's a Rolling Stone."
On the final day of his visit, the Russian ambassador said "As your stay is coming to an end, it is time for you to play our traditional game, Russian roulette. One of the six chambers of this gun is loaded you spin the cylinder, point the gun at your head, and pull the trigger."
This phased the African slightly, but he was a proud man of a warrior people, and to show fear would be unthinkable. Both men took their guns, spun, and pulled the triggers. click click
Both chambers were empty, and both ambassadors breathed a sigh of relief. The African ambassador was much impressed with the couragous game, and thought hard about the subject before the Russian Ambassador was due to visit his country the next year. When the visit came, the African ambassador treated the Russian with all hospitality, until the final day of his stay.
Leading him to a private room in the palace, the African ambassador spoke "Now it is time for you to sample our game, African roulette". So saying, he led the Russian into the room, the only occupants of which were six beautiful, naked women.
The African ambassador said "These women are the most beautiful members of one of our tribes. Any one of them will give you oral sex - take your pick". The Russian was not entirely averse to this idea, but he couldn't see the connection with Russian Roulette. He said "Well, ok, great, but where's the roulette part? Where's the danger?"
With a big grin on his face, the African ambassador answered: "One of them's a cannibal."
"Of course I won't laugh," the doctor said. "I'm a professional. In over twenty years I've never laughed at a patient."
"OK then," the man said, and proceeded to drop his trousers, revealing the tiniest penis the doctor has ever seen. Unable to control himself, the doctor fell laughing to the floor. Ten minutes later he was able to struggle to his feet and regain his composure.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I don't know what came over me. On my honor as a doctor and a gentleman, I promise it won't happen again. Now what seems to be the problem?"
A precious little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp, "Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdlewabbits?"
As the shopkeeper's heart melts, he gets down on his knees, so that he's on her level, and asks, "Do you want a widdle white wabby or a thoft and fuwwy bwack wabby or maybe one like that cute widdle bwown wabby over there?"
She, in turn blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees, leans forward and says in a quiet voice, "I don't fink my pet python weally gives a thit."
This is the story of the night my 10-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine. Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and 15 minutes of fame.
My husband Rich and I had just returned from a 5-day vacation in the Cayman Islands -- where I had been sick as a dog the whole time. We arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays had not been able to prepare for the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think about William Carlos Williams, and around 10 o'clock I heard Rich hollering from the kitchen.
I raced over to see what was wrong and spied Rich frantically rooting around under the kitchen sink and Rudy -- or, rather, Rudy's headless body -- scrambling around in the sink, his claws clicking in panic on the metal and his head stuck in the garbage disposal. Rich had just ground up the skin of some smoked salmon in the disposal, and when he left the room Rudy (who always was a pinhead) had gone in after it. It is very disturbing to see the headless body of your cat in the sink. This is an animal that I have slept with nightly for 10 years, who burrows under the covers and purrs against my side, and who now looked like a fur-covered turkey carcass, defrosting in the sink while it's still alive and kicking.
It was also disturbing to see Rich, Mr. Calm-in-any-Emergency, at his wit's end, trying to simultaneously soothe Rudy and undo the garbage disposal, and failing at both, and basically freaking out. Adding to the chaos was Rudy's twin brother Lowell, also upset, racing around in circles, jumping onto the kitchen counter and alternately licking Rudy's butt for comfort and biting it out of fear. Clearly, I had to do something. First we tried to ease Rudy out of the disposal by lubricating his head and neck with Johnson's baby shampoo (kept on hand for my nieces' visits) and butter- flavored Crisco. Both failed, and a now-greasy Rudy kept struggling.
Rich then decided to take apart the garbage disposal, which was a good idea, but he couldn't do it. Turns out the thing is constructed like a metal onion: you peel off one layer and another one appears, with Rudy's head still buried deep inside, stuck in a hard plastic collar. My job during this process was to sit on the kitchen counter petting Rudy, trying to calm him, with the room spinning (vertigo), Lowell howling (he's part Siamese), and Rich clattering around under the sink with his tools. When all our efforts failed, we sought professional help. I called our regular plumber, who actually called me back quickly, even at 11 o'clock at night (thanks, Dave). He talked Rich through further layers of disposal dismantling, but still we couldn't reach Rudy. I called the 1-800 number for Insinkerator (no response), a pest removal service that advertises 24-hour service (no response), an all-night emergency veterinary clinic (who had no experience in this matter), and finally, in desperation, 9-1-1.
I could see that Rudy's normally pink paw pads were turning blue. The fire department, I figured, gets cats out of trees; maybe they could get one out of a garbage disposal. The dispatcher had other ideas and offered to send over two policemen. The cops arrived close to midnight and turned out to be quite nice. More importantly, they were also able to think rationally, which we were not. They were, of course, astonished by the situation. "I've never seen anything like this," Officer Mike kept saying. (The unusual circumstances helped us get quickly on a first-name basis with our cops.) Officer Tom, who expressed immediate sympathy for our plight ("I've had cats all my life," he said), also had an idea. Evidently we needed a certain tool, a tiny, circular rotating saw, that could cut through the heavy plastic flange encircling Rudy's neck without hurting Rudy. Officer Tom happened to own one. "I live just five minutes from here," he said. "I'll go get it."
He soon returned, and the three of them -- Rich and the two policemen -- got under the sink together to cut through the garbage disposal. I sat on the counter, holding Rudy and trying not to succumb to the surreal-ness of the scene, with the weird middle-of- the-night lighting, the room's occasional spinning, Lowell's spooky sound effects, an apparently headless cat in my sink and six disembodied legs poking out from under it. One good thing came of this: the guys did manage to get the bottom off the disposal, so we could now see Rudy's face and knew he could breathe. But they couldn't cut the flange without risking the cat. Stumped.
Officer Tom had another idea. "You know," he said, "I think the reason we can't get him out is the angle of his head and body. (You can see where this is going, can't you?) "If we could just get the sink out," he continued, "and lay it on its side, I'll bet we could slip him out." That sounded like a good idea -- at this point, ANYTHING would have sounded like a good idea -- and as it turned out, Officer Mike runs a plumbing business on weekends; he knew how to take out the sink!
Again they went to work, the three pairs of legs sticking out from under the sink, surrounded by an ever-increasing pile of tools and sink parts. They cut the electrical supply, capped off the plumbing lines, unfastened the metal clamps, unscrewed all the pipes, and about an hour later, viola! The sink was lifted gently out of the countertop, with one guy holding the garbage disposal which contained Rudy's head) up close to the sink (which contained Rudy's body).
We laid the sink on its side, but even at this more favorable angle, Rudy stayed stuck. Officer Tom's radio beeped, calling him away on some kind of real police business. As he was leaving, though, he had another good idea. "You know," he said, "I don't think we can get him out while he's struggling so much. We need to get the cat sedated. If he were limp, we could slide him out." And off he went, regretfully, a cat lover still worried about Rudy.
The remaining three of us decided that getting Rudy sedated was a good idea, but Rich and I were new to the area. We knew that the overnight emergency veterinary clinic was only a few minutes away, but we didn't know exactly how to get there. "I know where it is!" declared Officer Mike. "Follow me!" So Mike got into his patrol car, Rich got into the driver's seat of our car, and I got into the back, carrying the kitchen sink, what was left of the garbage disposal, and Rudy.
It was now about 2:00 a.m. We followed Officer Mike for a few blocks when I decided to put my hand into the garbage disposal to pet Rudy's face, hoping I could comfort him. Instead, my sweet, gentle bedfellow chomped down on my finger really hard and wouldn't let go. My scream reflex kicked into gear. Rich slammed on the brakes, hollering "What? What happened? Should I stop?" "No," I managed to get out between screams, "just keep driving. Rudy's biting me, but we've got to get to the vet. Just go!"
Rich turned his attention back to the road, where Officer Mike took a turn we hadn't expected, and we followed. After a few minutes Rudy let go, and as I stopped screaming, I looked up to discover that we were wandering aimlessly through an industrial park, in and out of empty parking lots, past little streets that didn't look at all familiar. "Where's he taking us?" I asked. "We should have been there ten minutes ago!" Rich was as mystified as I was, but all we knew to do was follow the police car until, finally, he pulled into a church parking lot and we pulled up next to him.
As Rich rolled down the window to ask Officer Mike, where are were going, the cop, who was not Mike, rolled down his window and asked, "Why are you following me?" Once Rich and I recovered from our shock at having tailed the wrong cop car and the policeman from his pique at being stalked, he led us quickly to the emergency vet, where Mike greeted us by holding open the door, exclaiming "Where were you guys???"
It was lucky that Mike got to the vet's ahead of us, because we hadn't thought to call and warn them about what was coming. (Clearly, by this time we weren't really thinking at all.) We brought in the kitchen sink containing Rudy, and the garbage disposal containing his head, and the clinic staff was ready. They took his temperature (which was down 10 degrees) and his oxygen level (which was half of normal), and the vet declared, "This cat is in serious shock. We've got to sedate him and get him out of there immediately." When I asked if it was OK to sedate a cat in shock, the vet said grimly, "We don't have a choice." With that, he injected the cat. Rudy went limp and the vet squeezed about half a tube of K-Y jelly onto the cat's neck and pulled him free.
Then the whole team jumped into "code blue" mode. (I know this from watching a lot of ER.) They laid Rudy on a cart where one person hooked up IV fluids, another put little socks on his paws ("You'd be amazed how much heat they lose through their footpads," she said), one covered him with hot water bottles and a blanket, and another took a blow-dryer to warm up Rudy's now very gunky head. The fur on his head dried in stiff little spikes, making him look pathetically punk as he lay there, limp and motionless.
At this point they sent Rich, Mike, and me to sit in the waiting room while they tried to bring Rudy back to life. I told Mike he didn't have to stay, but he just stood there, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this," he said again and again. At about 3 a.m., the vet came in to tell us that the prognosis was good for a full recovery. They needed to keep Rudy overnight to re- hydrate him and give him something for the brain swelling they assumed he had, but if all went well, we could take him home the following night. Just in time to hear the good news, Officer Tom rushed in, having finished with his real police work and still concerned about Rudy.
Rich and I got back home about 3:30. We hadn't unpacked from our trip, I was still intermittently dizzy, and I still hadn't prepared for my 8:40 class. "I need a vacation," I said, and while I called the office to leave a message canceling my class, Rich made us a pitcher of martinis. I slept late the next day and then badgered the vet about Rudy's condition until he said that Rudy could come home later that day.
I was working on the suitcases when the phone rang. "Hi, this is Steve Huskey from the Norristown Times-Herald," a voice said. "Listen, I was just going through the police blotter from last night. Um, do you have a cat?" So I told Steve the whole story, which interested him immensely. A couple hours later he called back to say that his editor was interested, too; did I have a picture of Rudy? The next day Rudy was front-page news, under the ridiculous headline "Catch of the Day Lands Cat in Hot Water."
There were some noteworthy repercussions to the newspaper article. Mr. Huskey had somehow inferred that I called 9-1-1 because I thought Rich, my husband, was going into shock, although how he concluded this from my comment that "his pads were turning blue," I don't quite understand. So the first thing I had to do was call Rich at work -- Rich, who had worked tirelessly to free Rudy -- and swear that I had been misquoted.
When I arrived at work myself, I was famous; people had been calling my secretary all morning to inquire about Rudy's health. When I called our regular vet (whom I had met only once) to make a follow- up appointment for Rudy, the receptionist asked, "Is this the famous Rudy's mother?" When I took my car in for routine maintenance a few days later, Dave, my mechanic, said, "We read about your cat. Is he OK?" When I called a tree surgeon about my dying red oak, he asked if I knew the person on that street whose cat had been in the garbage disposal. And when I went to get my hair cut, the shampoo person told me the funny story her grandma had read in the paper, about a cat that got stuck in the garbage disposal.
Even today, over a year later, people ask about Rudy, which a 9- year-old neighbor had always called "the Adventure Cat" because he used to climb on the roof of her house and peer in the second-story window at her. I don't know what the moral of this story is, but I do know that this "adventure" cost me $1,100 in emergency vet bills, follow-up vet care, new sink, new plumbing, new electrical wiring, and new garbage disposal -- one with a cover. The vet can no longer say he's seen everything but the kitchen sink.
I wanted to thank Officers Tom and Mike by giving them gift certificates to the local hardware store, but was told that they couldn't accept gifts, and that I would put them in a bad position if I tried. So I wrote a letter to the Police Chief praising their good deeds and sent individual thank you notes to Tom and Mike, complete with pictures of Rudy, so they could see what he looks like with his head on. And Rudy, whom we originally got for free (or so we thought), still sleeps with me under the covers on cold nights, and, unaccountably, still sometimes prowls the sink, hoping for fish.
Original Author: Patti Schroeder This story has been verified true.