Friar's Club Encyclopedia of Jokes

by Barry Dougherty

  A woman went into the neighborhood grocery store and asked the grocer for a can of cat food. Knowing that she didn’t have a cat, the grocer asked why she was buying the stuff. “It’s for my husband’s lunch,” was the answer.

  Shocked, the grocer said, “You can’t feed cat food to your husband. It’ll kill him!”

  “I’ve been giving it to him for a week now and he likes it fine,” was her answer, and each day the woman continued to come in and purchase a can of cat food for her husband’s lunch.

  It wasn’t too much later that the grocer happened to be scanning the obituary column in the local paper and noticed that the woman’s husband had passed away. “When the woman came into the store, he couldn’t resist saying, “I’m sorry to hear about your husband, but I warned you that he’d die if you kept feeding him cat food.”

  “It wasn’t the cat food that killed him,” she retorted. “He broke his neck trying to lick his ass!”

  I feel like Liz Taylor’s fourth husband: I know what I am supposed to do, but I am at a loss as to how to make it different.

  As soon as they had finished making love, Susie jumped up from the bed and started packing her suitcase.

  “What on earth are you doing?” asked her puzzled husband.

  “In Las Vegas I could get two hundred dollars for what I just gave you for free,” she pointed out, “so I’m moving to Las Vegas.”

  This was enough to provoke her husband to jump up and began packing his bags.

  “What’re you up to?” asked Susie in surprise.

  “I’m following you to Las Vegas,” he replied. “I’ve got to see you live off six hundred dollars a year.”

  I

  Imagination

  It was an elegant dinner party and the hostess had left nothing to chance—except that a little water had splashed on the marble floor. And when the waiter came into the dining room carrying the beautiful roast suckling pig, he slipped and fell flat, sending the roast flying.

  “Don’t worry, Charles,” said the hostess calmly. “Just take the roast back to the kitchen and bring out the other one.”

  Requesting an interview with a loan officer, an inventor explained that he was working on a substance which, applied locally, would make a woman’s pussy smell like an orange. The skeptical banker refused the loan.

  A year or so later, the banker noticed that the man now had an enormous account. Inviting him in, the banker graciously apologized. “I do hope you don’t bear us any hard feelings for turning down your loan request.”

  “Far from it,” replied the inventor cheerfully. “It got me thinking. Instead, I developed a way to make an orange smell like pussy, and it’s been very successful.”

  Phyllis came into the office all aflutter about her husband. “You won’t believe this, Susie, but Rick takes a fishing pole into the bathroom and tosses the hook into the tub.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” gasped her friend. “Don’t you think you should take him to a psychiatrist?”

  “No time,” replied Phyllis with a shrug. “I’m too busy cleaning fish.”

  A man goes to the U.S. Patent Office and asks to patent the apple he’s carrying. “You can’t do that,” says the Patent Office official. “Mother Nature invented the apple.”

  “Not this apple. It’s special,” says the man. “Take a bite,”

  The officer takes a bite and says, “So? It tastes like any old apple.”

  “Turn it around, turn it around.”

  “Wow—it tastes like a pear!”

  “Turn it again.”

  “This is incredible,” says the official, “it tastes like a peach.” And he gives the guy a patent on his three-flavored apple.

  As the man’s walking through the lobby on his way out he sees a man with a bagful of cookies. “What’ve you got there?” he asks cheerfully.

  “Special cookies,” explains the second guy. “Take a bite and it tastes like pussy.”

  “I don’t believe it—let me try one.” He takes a big bite, only to make a face and sputter, “Goddamn, this tastes like shit.”

  “Turn it around, turn it around!”

  “Work is a fine thing if it doesn’t take up too much of your free time.

  This guy was down on his luck. He lost his job and was really in debt, so he decided to end it all. He went to a bridge outside town and was ready to jump, when out of the gathering fog he saw a figure coming slowly toward him. It was the ugliest woman he’d ever seen and she was wearing a conical hat. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

  “I’m a witch,” she said. “And I have magic powers. I’ll make you a deal. If you make love to me for twenty-four hours, I’ll cast a spell on every one you owe money to. I’ll cast a spell on your boss. I’ll make your life good again with my powers.”

  He looked at her again. She was really ugly and he didn’t want to cheat on his wife, but he figured he had nothing to lose since he was going to kill himself. So they went to a local motel and, ugly as she was, they made love all day and all night.

  The next morning when he got up, he looked over at her. She was still ugly. She looked at him and asked, “How old are you?”

  “I’m forty-five,” he answered.

  She looked at him and said, “Aren’t you a little old to believe in witches?”

  —DAN AYKROYD

  You can do anything with a bayonet except sit on it.

  —NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

  Infidelity

  My wife likes to talk to me during sex. In fact, the other day she called me from a motel.

  —SCOTT RECORD

  A young couple hadn’t been married for long when, one morning, the man came up behind his wife as she got out of the shower and grabbed her by the buttocks. “Y’know, honey,” he said smugly, “if you firmed these up a little bit, you wouldn’t have to keep wearing a girdle.”

  Her feelings were so hurt that she refused to speak to him for the rest of the day.

  Only a week later he again stepped into the bathroom just as she was drying off from her shower. Grabbing both breasts, he said, “Y’know, honey, if you firmed these up a bit, you wouldn’t have to keep wearing a bra.”

  The young wife was infuriated, but she had to wait until the next morning to exact her revenge. Waiting until her husband stepped out of the shower, she grabbed him by the penis and hissed, “Y’know, honey, if you firmed this up a little bit, I wouldn’t have to keep using your brother.”

  Tim and Elaine decided to tie the knot and went to the doctor for physical exams. Afterward the doctor called Tim into his office and told him he had some good news and some bad news. “The good news,” he explained, “is that your fiancée has gonorrhea.”

  Tim paled. “If that’s the good news, Doctor, then what the hell’s next?”

  The doctor elaborated. “Tim, the bad news is that she didn’t get it from you.”

  “When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.

  —SACHA GUITRY

  Houndslow had handled all of Harrington’s legal affairs for years, and one day he had to make a difficult telephone call to his old acquaintance. Being a forthright type, he got right to the point. “Harrington, I have some terrible news and some really awful news.”

  The businessman sat down and disconnected the speaker-phone. “Shoot, Houndslow.”

  “The terrible news is that your wife found a picture that’s going to be worth several hundred thousand dollars,” the lawyer informed him.

  “That’s the terrible news?” Harrington was intrigued. “I can hardly wait to hear the really awful news.”

  “It’s a picture of you and your receptionist.”

  It’s after dinner when this guy realizes he’s out of cigarettes. He decides to pop down to the corner bar for a pack, telling his wife he’ll be right back. The bartender offers him a draft on the house and he decides he has time for just one. He’s nursing it along when a gorgeous blond comes in the door, but he looks
the other way because he knows he has no time to fool around. So can he help it if she comes and sits right next to him and says how thirsty she is?

  One thing leads to another and eventually the girl says how much she likes him and invites him back to her apartment to get better acquainted. How can he refuse? They go back to her place and go at it like crazy, and the next thing he knows, it’s four o’clock in the morning. Jumping out of bed, the guy shakes the girl awake and asks if she has any baby powder.

  “Yeah, in the bathroom cabinet,” she says groggily.

  He dusts his hands liberally with the powder, drives home at ninety miles an hour, and pulls into the driveway to find his wife waiting up for him with a rolling pin in her hand. “So where’ve you been?” she screeches.

  “Well, you see, honey,” he stammers, “I only went out for cigarettes, but Jake offered me a beer and then this beautiful bombshell walked in and we got to talking and drinking and we’ve been back at her apartment fucking like bunnies. . . .”

  “Wait a minute,” snaps his wife. “Let me see your hands.” Turning on him furiously, she says, “Don’t you ever try lying to me again, you rotten little skunk—you’ve been bowling again!”

  I will not cheat on my wife. Because I love my house.

  —CHAS ELSTNER

  A man from the city decided to buy himself a pig, so he took a drive in the country until he saw a sign reading, “Pigs for Sale.” Turning into the drive, he parked next to an old farmer standing next to a pen full of pigs, and explained his mission. Agreeing to a price of a dollar a pound, he picked out his pig, whereupon the old man picked up the pig by the tail with his teeth. “Ayuh,” he pronounced, setting the squealing animal down, “that there pig weighs sixty-nine pounds.”

  Noting his customer’s astonishment, the farmer explained that the ability to weigh pigs in this manner was a family trait passed down through the generations. Skeptical, and not wanting to be taken for a city slicker, the man insisted on a second opinion. So the old farmer called his son over from the barn, and the boy, after weighing the pig in the same fashion, pronounced its weight to be sixty-nine pounds.

  Convinced, the man pulled out his wallet, but the farmer asked him to go up to the farmhouse and pay his wife, who would give him a receipt. The man was gone for a long time, and when he finally returned to the pigpen, it was without a receipt.

  “What’s the problem, son?” asked the old man.

  “I went up there just like you said,” recounted the man from the city, “but your wife was too busy to give me a receipt.”

  “Too busy doing what?” wondered the farmer.

  “Well, sir, I’m not exactly sure,” stammered the man, “but I think she’s weighing the milkman.”

  What are three words you never want to hear when you’re making love?

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  One night little Johnny walked in on his parents while they were screwing. “Daddy,” he cried, “what are you and Mommy doing?”

  “Uh . . . we’re making a little sister for you to play with,” stammered his father.

  “Oh, neat,” said Johnny, and went back to bed.

  The next day his dad came home to find the little boy sobbing his eyes out on the front porch.

  “What’s wrong, Johnny?” he asked, picking him up.

  “You know the little sister you and Mommy made me?”

  “Yes,” said his father, blushing.

  The little boy wailed, “Today the milkman ate her.”

  A guy goes home and finds his best friend in bed with his wife. He says, “Sam, I have to, but you?”

  —GENE BAYLOS

  Jake and Jim were about to head out for another long winter trapping in the northernmost wilds of Saskatchewan. When they stopped for provisions at the last tiny town, the proprietor of the general store, knowing it was going to be a good many months without female companionship, offered them two boards each featuring a fur-lined hole.

  “We won’t be needing anything like that,” Jake protested, and Jim shook his head righteously. But the storekeeper pressed the boards on them, pointing out that they could always be burned as firewood.

  Seven months later, bearded and gaunt, Jake walked into the general store. After a little chitchat about the weather and the trapping, the storekeeper asked where his partner was. “I shot the son of a bitch,” snarled Jake. “Caught him dating my board.”

  Laurie fell for her handsome new dentist like a ton of bricks, and pretty soon had lured him into a series of passionate encounters in the dental clinic after hours. But one day he said sadly, “Laurie, honey, we’ve got to stop seeing each other. Your husband’s bound to get suspicious.”

  “No way, sweetheart, he’s dumb as a post,” she assured him. “Besides, we’ve been screwing for six months now and he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

  “True,” agreed the dentist, “but you’re down to one tooth.”

  “Sheila,” asked Lucy thoughtfully one day, “what would you do if you caught another woman in bed with your husband?”

  “With Ralph?” Sheila thought it over. “Let’s see: I’d break her cane, shoot her Seeing Eye dog, and call a cab to take her back to the institution she escaped from.”

  Two fellows were sitting in a coffee shop, when suddenly the town’s fire alarm went off. One jumped up and headed for the door.

  His friend shouted, “Hey, Tom, I didn’t know you were a fireman!”

  Tom replied, “I’m not, but my girlfriend’s husband is. . . .”

  A woman went to a psychiatrist because she was having serious problems with her sex life. The psychiatrist asked her many questions, but he did not seem to be getting a clear picture of her problems. Finally he asked, “Do you ever watch your husband’s face while you are having sex?”

  “Well, yes, I did once.”

  “Well, how did he look?”

  “Very angry.”

  At this point the psychiatrist felt that he was really getting somewhere and he said, “Well that’s very interesting, we must look into this further. Now tell me, you say that you have only seen your husband’s face once during sex. That seems somewhat unusual. How did it occur that you saw his face that time?”

  “He was looking through the window.”

  One day, Bobby Shapiro goes to the local brothel and, to his astonishment, meets his father there.

  “Papa,” he says, “what are you doing here?”

  “Son,” the father replies, “for fifty bucks, why should I bother your mother?”

  A married woman is having an affair. Whenever her lover comes over, she puts her nine-year-old son in the closet. One day the woman hears a car in the driveway and puts her lover in the closet, too.

  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.

  “Okay. 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, she puts 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.

  “Okay. 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,” re
plies 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 for forgiveness,” the father says 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 you start that shit in here now,” the priest says.

  Jake was on his deathbed, with his wife, Becky, at his side. With tears streaming down his face, he said, “Becky, I must confess. . . .”

  Becky interrupted, “Hush. Don’t try to talk.”

  But Jake insisted, “No, I want to die with a clean conscience. I must confess. I’ve been unfaithful to you.”

  Becky replied, “Yes, I know. Why else would I have poisoned you?”

  Gary matched Dan drink for drink, trying to get him to talk about what was troubling him. Gentle prodding was ignored until finally, after downing the sixth, when Dan blurted out, “Okay, it’s your wife.”

  “My wife?” his friend demanded. “What about my wife?”

  Dan replied, “I think she’s cheating on us.”

  Don’t keep him in the doghouse too often or he might give his bone to the woman next door

  A man needs a mistress, just to break the monogamy.

  Take an interest in your husband’s activities: hire a detective.

  A man and his wife were at a party. “When a young woman walked in, the man said to his wife very matter-of-factly: “Look, that’s our neighbor’s mistress.” His wife was rather shocked, but said nothing. Then, when a few minutes later another young woman walked in, he added, “And that’s mine.” His wife was silent for a few moments. Then she said, “Ours is prettier.”