...meanwhile, lorry drivers get fed ex.
A number of years ago I was in a rock band. We were hugely successful, playing some of the biggest venues and entertaining swarms of fans.
The last shoes we ever played were on our world tour. We played the Americas and then flew over to Europe. We played our way through Russia and even a couple of gigs in China, before selling out our final show in Japan.
It was a hell of a Journey, but it was time for me to hang up my guitar. I retired from the rock star life and got an office job in Tokyo.
I made a few friends at work, and grew close with one in particular, Narada-san. One day Narada had the day off for a funeral, but that wasn't enough; he needed more time. He was torn between his obligation to return to work and his desire to have more time at home. He asked me what he should do.
The answer was simple. I picked up my guitar and played a Japanese version of our biggest hit from 1981:
Don't Stop Bereaving
Iran all the way to Iraq just to Syria cook the Turkey
He risked life and mlem.
I closed the window after a minute, and everyone disappeared from inside the space shuttle!
For the watch.
"No, I'm fairly certain it was my mother."
Credit to B.C. (comic strip), most likely paraphrased since I read it many a moon ago, though I'm fairly certain the punchline is very close to the original.
Without missing a beat my dad goes "Why didn't they just keep him in the trunk.
I'm still laughing like a drunken seal.
She kept telling me that I need vipers.
I told her that this band would take her on a trip.
...I heard they had a hard time making ents meet
They make your meal any way you want it.
She said, “Could you be a little more pacific?”