After work today, I spent an hour of what was left of the afternoon in one of my favourite rainy day activities (Yes, a rainy day in February) - browsing through the used book stalls in thrift stores.
The Sally Ann store check-out clerk had an interesting proposition: tell a joke, sing a song or dance a little dance, and I'll give you 10% off the total cost of your items.
"Well, any joke I can remember off the top of my head isn't fit for a Christian thrift store," I said, "and funny enough, the only poem I can ever remember without struggle was one that got me in trouble as a 6 year old child in Grade 1, and my Grandpa taught it to me!"
"What was it?" asked the woman in line behind me.
So I trotted out my party piece that made my Grandpa rock back on his heels in laughter every time I recited it:
Carnation Milk's the best in the land,
comes to the table in a little red can.
No tits to pull, no hay to pitch,
just punch a hole in the son-of-a-bitch.
She about bust a gut laughing.
"Say that again!" said the woman next in line.
So I did. And then explained:
"I was raised on a ranch," I explained, "and my Grandpa didn't believe in cowboys milking cows."
The clerk thought it was so funny that she gave me one of $2-each books to me for free - a 25% discount.
First time that little party piece ever did me some good instead of getting me in trouble.