The Nile-ist
Blessed be the flute
She was Marge in All.
I use the date of birth of a person I know. For example from Margarete von Henneberg. Nobody knows her. So how should someone get my password 1234?
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Sister Mary Margaret went to the doctor for her early physical. The doctor said "alright, I'll need you to take off your habit and stand in your underwear."
The sister took off her habit and stood in her underwear before the doc. He started to examine her and saw lettuce sticking out of her underwear.
"Sister, you have lettuce sticking out of your underwear. That doesn't look good for your exam."
She replied "that's just the tip if the Iceberg."
He had different kinds of jokes for each maiden, as he knew they each had different types of humor. Margaret was first, and the knight stood before her and tried out a new knock knock joke. A boy watching nearby asked his mother, "why did he tell her a knock knock joke?" The mother replied, "well sweetie that's because her husband used to always tell them, so she appreciates them more." Next was Priscilla, and as the knight stood before her he tried out the joke the court jester told him. "Why did the knight use a court jester joke?" Asked the boy. "Well sweetie that's because Priscilla isnt very bright and she wouldnt understand most other jokes." Finally it was Dawn's turn. The knight began his joke but the mother quickly covered the boys ears. "Why did you do that?" Asked the boy. "Because you are too young for the humor the knight uses on her, and the knight is always darkest before Dawn."
You know what they say, Margaret. "Thyme heals all wounds".
Every year, the team was in the state championship game, and usually won it handily. Every able lad within a few hundred miles wanted to play football for Central Catholic Fighting Knights.
Those who were familiar with the program, knew that the true heart and soul of the Knights football program was Sister Mary Margaret, an aged nun who would, in full habit, get out on the practice field and work on routes with the receivers, give pointers to the quarterbacks on their stances and releases, but most of all, love them like the second mother that she became to all of the boys in that program.
One year, on the eve of the state championship game, some evil malefactors broke into the convent and kidnapped Sister Mary Margaret. Everyone was stunned by the news, but none more so than the Knights of Central Catholic. They were devastated at the loss of their mentor.
As you might guess, the state championship game didn't go very well. For the first time in the history of the football program, the Knights were shut out. The Spartans beat them 42-0.
The next day, the headline on the local sports section read:
No Offense, Nun Taken
Margaret Atwood. Did you expect George Arr Arr Martin?
Picture this.
A fancy Christmas dinner party at his new wife's opulent, sandstone estate house. Plates are being cleared from the lengthy, mahogony table that seats the fourteen well-to-do guests, the main course having just finished. All have feasted gloriously on our Christmas fare.
My Dad, playing the good host, picks up two bottles of wine, one white and one red, and proceeds to do a round of the table, chatting amiably with everyone as he circles. Those whose glasses are less than 90% full, he proceeds to top-up. I am sitting in the very centre of the long table, seated directly opposite a very well off lady in her early sixties, by the name of Margaret. My dad, having just topped off my glass, is now standing directly behind me.
This older woman, full of grace and charm, looks to my Dad and says, "Thank you so much for this glorious meal, John. It's been simply divine."
My Dad, "Not at all, Margaret, not at all. Could I charge your glass?"
Margaret, "Oh, no no, thank you. I've got the bottle in front of me!"
My Dad, quick of wit, and with a sneaky - yet charming - grin on his face, responds, "Ah, well, better that than a frontal lobotomy!"
I've never been more proud of him.
Mom: So I ran into Margaret at work today
Dad: Did you say sorry?
What's brown and sticky? A stick.
My contrary Aunt Margaret drowned recently. They found her upstream.
Every able lad within a few hundred miles wanted to play football for Central Catholic Fighting Knights.
Those who were familiar with the program, knew that the true heart and soul of the Knights football program was Sister Mary Margaret, an aged nun who would, in full habit, get out on the practice field and work on routes with the receivers, give pointers to the quarterbacks on their stances and releases, but most of all, love them like the second mother that she became to all of the boys in that program.
One year, on the eve of the state championship game, some evil malefactors broke into the convent and kidnapped Sister Mary Margaret. Everyone was stunned by the news, but none more so than the Knights of Central Catholic. They were devastated at the loss of their mentor.
As you might guess, the state championship game didn't go very well. For the first time in the history of the football program, the Knights were shut out. The Spartans beat them 42-0.
The next day, the headline on the local sports section read:
No Offense, Nun Taken
