Two Polish guys are sitting on a park bench when a homeless man suddenly approaches them. “Hey!” he bellows in his hoarse voice. “I’ve got a riddle for you two.”
“What has two heads, four arms, four legs, and stinks like SH*T?”
The Polish guys look at each other, completely puzzled. After a moment, one of them shrugs. “I give up. What has two heads, four arms, four legs, and stinks like SH*T?”
“You and your friend!” the homeless man replies with a grin before staggering away, chuckling to himself.
The Polish guys stare after him for a second, then burst out laughing. “That was a funny riddle that bum told us,” one says. “Let’s go do it on someone else.”
Still laughing almost hysterically, they spot two American guys sitting nearby.
They walk over to them with huge smiles on their faces. “Hey, guys!” one of them says. “We’ve got a riddle for you!”
“What has two heads, four arms, four legs, and stinks like SH*T?”
The American guys shrug, waiting for the answer. The Polish guys can barely contain their laughter. Finally, one of them smirks and proudly says, “Me and my friend!”
The two American guys stare at them for a moment.
Then one of them slowly looks at the other and says, “I think they just got us.”
The Polish guys burst out laughing again, delighted that the joke had worked exactly as planned.
**Had It All.** This morning, I was sitting on a park bench next to a homeless man.
I started a conversation by asking him how he ended up this way. He looked at me for a moment, then sighed as though he were remembering a completely different life.
“Up until last week, I still had it all,” he said. “I had plenty to eat, my clothes were washed and pressed, I had a roof over my head, I had TV and Internet, and I went to the gym, the pool, and the library.
“I was working on my MBA online. I had no bills and no debt. I even had full medical coverage.”
I felt sorry for him, so I asked, “What happened?
“Drugs? Alcohol? Divorce?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” he said.
I leaned closer, expecting some heartbreaking story about bad luck or a terrible financial disaster.
Instead, he looked at me completely calmly and said,
“I was released from prison.”
I sat there in silence for a moment, suddenly realizing that I had misunderstood almost everything he had just told me.
**Hi there. I’m Bob. I’m 80.** Every morning, I sit on the same park bench and chat with my friend, Jim, who’s a full seven years older than me. I’ve always wondered where he gets all his stamina from—he goes for a jog each day without fail before meeting me. And, amazingly, he’s never out of breath.
One fine day, I finally plucked up the courage to ask him, “Hey, Jim, how on earth do you have all that stamina at your age?”
“Well, I eat Italian bread every day. It keeps your energy level high, and you’ll have great stamina with the ladies,” Jim replied confidently.
Intrigued by this remarkable discovery, I decided to visit the local bakery on my way home to find myself some Italian bread and, hopefully, get a vitality boost.
As I looked around, trying to make sure no one caught on to what I was really doing, the lady behind the counter smiled and asked me if I needed any help.
“Do you have any Italian bread?” I asked sheepishly.
“Yes,” she replied. “There’s a whole shelf of it. Would you like some?”
“I want five loaves.”
“My goodness, five loaves?” she exclaimed.
I nodded proudly, already imagining myself returning to the park the next morning with the stamina of a man half my age.
The baker looked at me, then at the five loaves I had ordered, and gave me a sympathetic smile.
“By the time you get to the fifth loaf,” she said, “it’ll be hard.”
I froze.
Then I understood exactly what she meant.
I left as fast as my eighty-year-old legs could carry me!
