The long game

So a bus conductor in America was doing his job one day, happily printing and checking tickets all day long, enjoying the country views and feeling good about life.

A young lad gets on, chewing gum and being as loud and rude as all teenage lads are. There’s no-one else on the bus, so the conductor takes his ticket machine and bops the lad over the head, killing him. As expected, the Police arrest him. He goes through the legal process, a trial and admits his guilt, however the judge decides that they’re making an example of him and give him the sentence of death by the electric chair.

On Death row, he requests 5lbs of bananas for his last meal, which is duly brought and consumed. As he finishes, the guards arrive to escort him to the chair. As the executioner flicks the switch, nothing happens. All of the equipment is checked and works, but has no effect on the bus conductor. Under the law, this counts as a reprieve and he is released.

He gets his job back and puts the whole incident behind him. Until one day, a little old lady gets on the bus and starts to pay for a ticket in one cent coins. After about 10 minutes of fiddling with change, the conductor runs out of patience and bops the old lady on the head, killing her. As expected, the Police arrest him. He goes through the legal process, a trial and admits his guilt, however the judge decides that they’re making an example of him and give him the sentence of death by the electric chair.

On Death row, he requests 5lbs of bananas for his last meal, which is duly brought and consumed. As he finishes, the guards arrive to escort him to the chair. As the executioner flicks the switch, nothing happens. All of the equipment is checked and works, but has no effect on the bus conductor. Under the law, this counts as a reprieve and he is released.

After getting his job back again, life seems to go well for the conductor, until one day a young lady gets on the bus, casually putting her feet on the seat opposite. By now, the conductor is a little less lenient than in years gone by, so he takes his ticket machine and bops her over the head with it, killing her. As expected, the Police arrest him. He goes through the legal process, a trial and admits his guilt, however the judge decides that they’re making an example of him and give him the sentence of death by the electric chair.

On Death row, he requests 5lbs of bananas for his last meal, which is duly brought and consumed. As he finishes, the guards ar

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πŸ‘€︎ u/BloodAngel1982
πŸ“…︎ May 21 2018
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Every time my dad tells this it gets just a little more elaborate. But this is how I remember it.

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken

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πŸ‘€︎ u/clearwind
πŸ“…︎ Feb 22 2014
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Dad nearly gets kids killed using rascist pet names.

My whole family is very, very white.

So my brother and I are at an NHL hockey game. I forget who was playing. My brother and I had gone to get some snacks are where trying to get my dads attention. We called his name, we waved, we screamed, we screeched, and nothing would get his attention. Finally we determined that we get his attention by calling the pet name he used for us when we were getting into mischief.

... 1 ... 2 ... 3 ... COTTONPICKER!!!

At that moment 3 huge black guys turned around. I wondered for a second why they looked like they wanted to murder us. I had never actually parsed the word cottonpicker before; but in the second second I did. Took till the third second until I realized the rascist connotations of that term, and why 3 huge black guys might have some ill will towards us for screaming it so flippantly. I can only imagine how my 13 year old eyes looked as I processed this information. By the forth second I had grabbed my brother and we were running. We didn't stop for 10 minutes. We couldn't go back to our seats for the whole game since these guys were sitting right behind us.

After the game I let my father know how pissed at him I was.

TLDR: Dads don't have rascist pet names for your kids; you may get them killed.

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πŸ‘€︎ u/Gnolaum
πŸ“…︎ Mar 09 2014
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