The Moral of the Story: Herm's Hummer!

It all started when Herm, an old friend of mine, decided to buy a new car. To my dismay, he decided to buy the worst mileage monster he could fine: A new Hummer.

Well, after spending so much money, he decided to protect his investment with his own hands: Waxing the monster’s hide, using chemical wipes to protect the vinyl, and even a new corn-based fabric protector on the seats. This guy went all out!

Anyway, one day, another friend of mine ran into work, grabbed me, and said Old Herm was in trouble! As we exited the building, he explained it to me.

Seems it had been a hot day out, and Herm tends to sweat a bit in that state. After a while of this, he had turned on the air conditioner, and then came the rest of the way to work. Oddly, when he tried to get out, he found himself glued to the seat and was unable to stand or even move very far!

I figured it out immediately. Herm had a tendency to do everything in excess: He applied too much corn based fabric protector and had ended up soaking it with his own sweat, making a corn-based glue. When we finally arrived at the hummer, he was no-where to be seen.

My friend was confused, and overly excited. He was sure that this was the car, but had no idea how he could have got loose, and the seat showed no signs of the problem we had discussed.

And the moral?



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I shook my head, and told him “Sorry, Jake… Herm’s starched to the seat of a different hummer!”


<and for those that don't get it, say it outloud>

Lovely. And in similar vein...

A friend of mine once visited Toronto's most renowned seafood restaurant, wanting to sample some of their famous wares.

Talking with the celebrity chef/owner, Gervaise, my friend opted to try the calamari - "la specialite de la Maison", according to Gervaise.

Gervaise - who likes to greet all his guests in person - promptly popped back behind the scenes to start preparing the dish. Alas, on reaching the kitchens, he discovered that their delivery of fresh seafood had been rather light in the cephalopod category that day. Their was only one, small live squid included.

Undaunted, Gervaise made a mental note to scratch calamari from that night's menu, but at least he would have sufficient for one serving.

Unfortunately, when he looked closer at the squid in question, he noticed a few things that troubled him. First, the wee beastie was a rather unappealing green colour. In addition, it appeared to have a hare lip - not entirely unheard of in squids, apparently, but a little startling when one first encounters it.

Without question the worst thing, however, was the sad, plaintive look in the little squid's eyes when Gervaise reached down to extract it from its watery home. As it gazed up at him, with such a mild, pleading expression - coupled with the rather forlorn look leant it by the hare lip - Gervaise realised he just couldn't do it: he couldn't bring himself to kill the poor wee greenish critter.

Never one to disappoint a valued customer, however, Gervaise decided to turn to his gruff and burly dishwasher to do the dirty deed. Hans had been with Gervaise for a few months now - and had become a steady and dependable presence in the kitchen; making up for his dour and grim personality with the zeal and vigour with which he scrubbed the dishes till they sparkled.

Reaching for a cleaver, Hans approached the tank in which the small, meek creature cowered. With a decisive grasp, Hans lifted the squid out onto a chopping block, and raised the heavy cleaver above his head. Alas - as he paused at the top of his stroke - Hans too was struck by the mild, pleading, almost human look in the squid's eyes, and the tragic aspect of its green complexion and hare-lipped smile.

He couldn't do it. Even the stern, teutonic heart of Hans the dishwasher was melted by the wretched look in the squid's eyes.

Gervaise had no option but to return the squid to its tank, apologize to his customer, and offer him a different selection from the menu of the day.

And from that day till this, calamari has never again been featured on the menu at Chez Gervaise.

The moral of the story? Well clearly: Hans that does dishes can be soft as Gervaise, with mild, green, harey-lip squid.

They were driving in a rental car along a rather deserted highway. It was late, and raining very hard. Bob could barely see 20 feet in front of the car.

Suddenly the car skids out of control! Bob attempts to control the car, but to no avail! The car swerves and smashes into a tree. Moments later, Bob shakes his head to clear the fog. Dazed, he looks over at the passenger seat and sees his wife unconscious, with her head bleeding! Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knows he has to carry her to the nearest phone.

Bob carefully picks his wife up and begins trudging down the road. After a short while, he sees a light. He heads towards the light, which is coming from an old, large house. He approaches the door and knocks. A minute passes. A small, hunched man opens the door. Bob immediately blurts, "Hello, my name is Bob Hill, and this is my wife Betty. We've been in a terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I please use your phone?"

"I'm sorry," replied the hunchback, "but we don't have a phone. My master is a doctor; come in and I will get him!"

Bob brings his wife in. An elegant man comes down the stairs. "I'm afraid my assistant may have misled you. I am not a medical doctor; I am a scientist. However, it is many miles to the nearest clinic, and I have had a basic medical training. I will see what I can do. Igor, bring them down to the laboratory."

With that, Igor picks up Betty and carries her downstairs, with Bob following closely. Igor places Betty on a table in the lab. Bob collapses from exhaustion and his own injuries, so Igor places Bob on an adjoining table. After a brief examination, Igor's master looks worried.

"Things are serious, Igor. Prepare a transfusion." Igor and his master work feverishly, but to no avail. Bob and Betty Hill are no more.

The Hills' deaths upset Igor's master greatly. Wearily, he climbs the steps to his conservatory, which houses his grand piano. For it is here that he has always found solace. He begins to play, and a stirring, almost haunting, melody fills the house.

Meanwhile, Igor is still in the lab tidying up. His eyes catch movement, and he notices the fingers on Betty's hand twitch, keeping time to the haunting piano music. Stunned, he watches as Bob's arm begins to rise, marking the beat! He is further amazed as Betty sits straight up! Unable to contain himself, he dashes up the stairs to the conservatory. He bursts in and shouts to his master: "Master, Master! "
(wait for it)

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"The Hills are alive with the sound of music!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"