Noah's berries.

It's not well known that among the species of plants taken aboard Noah's Ark was a very odd berry. This berry had a special property where if you ate too few at once they would be sour, but if you ate too many at once they would be bitter. Even stranger was that the right number of berries to eat at once for perfect sweetness was different for each person.

Shem would never take enough berries and would complain every time "Ugh! These berries are so sour! Why did we bring these plants?" Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you need to eat a couple more in a mouthful to make them sweet."

Ham would always take too many berries and would complain every time "Ick! These berries are so bitter! I'd like to toss the plants overboard." Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you need to eat fewer in a mouthful to make them sweet."

Japeth would grab a random amount and whenever they were bitter or sour he'd complain "Why do these berries never taste the same? We should let the animals eat the plants so we don't have to eat the silly berries." Noah would reply "I've told you over and over, you should remember how many berries taste the best."

After a couple of weeks of this, Noah announced "I'm taking charge of portioning the berries. I've made notes of how many of them taste the best for me, my wife, all of you my sons, and your wives. At meals I'll give each of you the correct amount, and NO MORE COMPLAINTS!"

Another week passed and Japeth wanted some berries to take the edge off his hunger, but rather than wander all over the whole ark looking for his father he asked Emzara "Where's dad? I'd like some berries before lunch."

Emzara pointed to the storeroom and said "I thought you were tired of the berries? But there's Noah, counting for taste."

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πŸ‘€︎ u/GreggAlan
πŸ“…︎ May 18 2021
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Like a demonic possession, this joke took a hold of me this morning and would not let go. I'm sorry.

The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"

"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."

Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.

"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.

"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"

"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"

Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumΓ© I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."

That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"

Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"

"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."

Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.

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πŸ‘€︎ u/Larny-Arny
πŸ“…︎ Sep 01 2014
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