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Fairy Story

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One fine spring morning when the lambs were gambolling in the fields and the birds were singing in the trees, the parish priest paused on his regular walk from the rectory to the church because he heard a plaintive cry from the bank of the stream beside the road.

"Kind sir, will you save me? Will you restore me? Kind sir, please help me!"

It took the kindly old gentleman some time to find the source of the voice which continued to cry out pitifully, but eventually and to his astonishment he discovered sitting on a rock at the edge of the stream a big bullfrog and it was the frog that was talking.

"Well, bless my soul!" cried the priest. "What have we here? A talking frog! Whatever next?"

"Kind sir," replied the frog. "I am no ordinary frog, but I began my life as a human. Indeed I once served as a chorister in your own church. But a wicked witch caught me scrumping apples from her enchanted orchard and in her anger and spite she turned me into a frog, doomed to croak forever on the banks of this stream."

"Well, dear me!" said the pious old man. "Can anything be done? Where is this cruel woman, perhaps I might talk to her for you?"

"There is but one way to restore me to my proper form, sir. I have learned that the spell will be broken if I sit where a holy person has lain his head and stay there until sunrise. Please, sir, can you help me?"

"Well, well, I'll see what I can do. But I have some things to do first. Can you sit in my coat pocket until later? Will you be comfortable there?"

"Oh, yes, sir, very comfortable. I'll be no trouble. Thank you, sir!"

And so the old man scooped the frog up in his hand and tipped it into his big coat pocket and continued his journey to the church. There the frog stayed all day, for between you and me I suspect that the rector may have forgotten all about it. His memory was not what it had been. But when he came to take off his coat before dressing for bed that night, he noticed the bulge and weight in the pocket and fished the frog out and placed it on his pillow where it settled to sleep even before he got into bed himself.

The next morning when the housekeeper came into the room and threw the curtains back before waking the vicar in time for breakfast, lo and behold a wondrous miracle had taken place. There before her was a choirboy in bed with the vicar!

And there, my lord, members of the jury, rests the case for the defense.


Hope you liked that. Inspired by Graeme's new short story, 'Superhero', which uses a similar literary trick very effectively, I was reminded of this old joke and just had to share it with you all. Hope it was new to at least some of you!


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Guest Fritz

That reminds me of the story of the farmer being questioned for jury duty. It goes something like this.

The farmer replied, "Do I believe in circumstantial evidence, let me tell you a true story. I went out one morning to milk the cow and she was in a bad mood. The first thing she did was kick the pail spilling milk on my pants and getting them wet. So I took my pants off to let them dry and after washing out the pail, started milking her again. Understand that I was commando that morning so there I sat in my shirt, boots and little else trying to milk the cow.

"Then she swung her tail and slapped me in the head with it. Then she did that again, and again. After a while I got tired of being slapped in the head with a shitty cow's tail and decided to do something about it. So I got a rope and tied it to the cow's tail and then took the milking stool, placed it behind the cow so I could step up on it and tie the other end of the rope to a rafter. Just as I stepped up onto the stool my wife walked into the barn to see what was taking me so long to milk the cow. Now you asked me if I believe in circumstantial evidence and the answer is hell no I don't believe in circumstantial evidence."

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