Towards the end of last school year, my sister was getting in my hair about a promise I made to her: to help her find jokes for publication in her school’s magazine’s maiden edition. She made herself such a nuisance of herself she aroused my interest. I was pulled in the anxiety and awaited the magazine’s arrival keenly. She had previously told me that the proprietor or principal or some important academic staff who should know better remarked that he hated the arts so much and would disown any child of his who had the guts to study arts in school. So that heightened my anticipation: I was itching to gloat at their attempts at literary excellence.
The magazine dropped. And I knew I was not to be disappointed—I had something to take jibes at. About 40 per cent of the images in the mag were adapted from imageshack.us and google images; pictures of school settings they have never seen or ever will see. One that really struck my funny bone was a picture of Angelina Jolie with a finger in her mouth, looking like the inspiration to Nickelback’s Something in Your Mouth (you know the lyrics, “You are so much cooler when you never pull it out//Cuz you look so much cuter with something in your mouth”). The essay was curiously titled, ‘Reasons Why Students Find Mathematics Difficult’. It seems the author probably attributes the problem to Mrs. Jolie’s status as a sex symbol and its disruptive influence on a young student’s attention but I may be wrong.
There were a lot of articles running the gamut of poems, editorials, news, puzzles, interviews, jokes and riddles. Some of the good articles seem to have been plagiarized. The bad ones appeared to have been written with a pen, a math set, a big word glossary and a graph sheet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the editor acquired a big list of big words (the Oxford Super 3000?) and shared it amongst the articles’ authors with a quota system to be strictly adhered to; for instance, twenty big ones per square meter of essay. The poems had less soul than a computer generated one with a title like ‘An Appreciation to My Principal’. The editor was good though and wrote most of the essays himself. The only problem with his writing was the ubiquitous big word fever that was making the rounds in school that season.
The jokes were drier than the Atacama Desert. I mean, these jokes were old when Abraham was still a young. Yes, the biblical Abraham. Picture this: Sarah salting (read ‘powdering’) Isaac’s ass and Abraham goes, “Hey Sarah, here’s a new one. Did you hear…? ”, and bursts out laughing. An unamused Sarah replies sarcastically, “Hah hah, Abe. You are such a riot. Besides, that joke was old when Methuselah was a toddler. Now be a sport and hand over that napkin”. Worse still, the jokes had no comic finesse.
I had the most fun with the riddles. I tried to answer them and got most of them wrong (that is, according to the riddlers). Here are the riddles (R), my answers (MA), their answers (TA) and my reactions (MR) to their answers:
R. I’m something. I don’t come down whenever I go up. What am I?
MA. A viagral expression of the pelvic extremity.
TA. Age
MR. Oh
R. I’m something that cries whenever you cut me. What am I?
MA. Almost everybody (with the exception of Chuck Norris) when cut in the right place.
TA. Onion
MR. I’ve never heard an onion cry; rather you cry when you cut it!
R. I am something when you remove my first and last letters, I become a state in Nigeria; when you put them back and I become a country. What am I?
MA. I give up.
TA. London
MR. London, a country? Then I must have missed the latest CNN Breaking News—London Cedes From Great Britain! Royal House Aghast! 10 Browning Street Says, ‘Bloody Idiots. Good Riddance’.
R. I am something that twenty-two sweet boys follow about like addicts. What am I?
MA. Hot-ass chick past a football field
TA. Football
MR. I check the author: a girl. (Raised eyebrows) Sweet young boys? Someone’s hormones have started acting up.
R. I’m something with many teeth but can’t bite. What am I?
MA. Comb
TA. Piano
MR. My piano has keys. It has yet to reveal its teeth to me.
R. I’m something people clap for whenever I pass because I’m the best musician in the world. What am I?
MA. Michael Jackson? No, he’s dead. Beyonce, then?
TA. Mosquitoes
MR. I didn’t see them nominated for the past Grammy. Who are they, anyway? A rock band?
R. I am a girl with green hair. What am I?
MA. A punk rock groupie.
TA. Carrot
MR. *holds carrot* Hey Agatha. I ate Trisha earlier and forgot to tell her I love her. Would you mind passing the message on? *Crack! Crunch, crunch, crunch. Gulps*
R. I’m something that always greets my mother before I die. What am I?
MA. G.I. Joe. He usually goes like this in the movies: ‘Hey, Jack…tell my momma I love her’. *Dies*
TA. Matches
MR. Nah, that’s more like kissing ass.
R. I’m something with ten sweet breasts. What am I?
MA. A bunch of five lactating women. But wait, we learnt from ‘White Chicks’ that breast milk isn’t sweet. Okay, five cows, then.
TA. Paw-paw tree
MR. I went to my backyard where I have two paw-paw trees. I counted the ‘breasts’. They were fourteen and twenty each. I breast (rest) my case.
R. I am a boy with four brothers. One in Port-Harcourt, one in Abia, one in Umuahia and one in Lagos. What am I?
MA. Igbo boy business with five sons and five branches
TA. Paul
MR. Paul who?
R. I am very sweet in all ramifications. But I become the most envied and desired of all men should you replace my first letter with ‘m’. What am I?
MA. Ramifications, WTF?! English abuse alert! Besides, if ‘sweet in all ramifications’ can’t make you desired and envied by all men, I wonder what the ‘m’ substitute will do.
TA. Honey
MR. Oh, there goes the neighborhood. In all ramifications.
R. I am a gigantic house, painted green on the outside, expensively furnished with brown furnishings inside and a gigantic swimming pool within. What am I?
MA. A house in an MTV Cribs episode
TA. Coconut
MR. If that’s gigantic, then you must be Lilliputian. And expensive? Right, N50 is really prohibitive.
R. I am a place where once you knock and hear, ‘Yes’ you go back but when you hear nothing, once you knock, you come in. What am I?
MA. A burglar’s target house.
TA. Toilet
MR. I believe the sounds and smells of fart and shit is more likely to send you back than ‘Yes’.
R. I’m a twin. I bear all things, believe all things and endure all things while my twin is the complete opposite of me to the last T. What am I?
MA. I’m not sure but his middle name must be Gullible.
TA. Love
MR. I guess someone’s watching a lot of Naija movies. And what, pray tell, is the last T.
R. I am an object loved by all but always love to play games. I lock myself in a darkroom and throw away the key, waiting for someone to collect the key and open the door for me. What am I?
MA. Penis in chastity belt
TA. Sardine
MR. You forgot to mention ‘Ichthyoids brutally murdered and hacked to pieces. Mass burial in metal tomb and it just gets worse’.
R. Tell me a big river with a big fish that is bigger than the river and 36 strong rocks surrounding.
MA. Whale in a shark pond and 36 strong rocks surrounding
TA. River is saliva. The fish is the tongue. The rocks are the teeth.
MR. This is more like ‘Wet whale in an empty dolphin pond’. And who the hell has 36 teeth? A hyena with cavities, that’s who.
R. I have 3 names; name of a person, name of an organ in the body and name of a kitchen utensil. What am I?
MA. Dazzle me with your brilliance, O Eminent Wise One.
TA. Andrew’s Liver Salt.
MR. Oh, I’ve got a better one. Johnson’s Stomach Gas.
Well, as there, obviously, is no pre-qualification for riddling, I think I should give it a try. Here goes—
R. I am black, green, red and black again, standing on a foot. Who am I?
YA. …..
MA. A Nigerian policeman with green and red boxer shorts putting on his trousers.
POW! KA-POW! POW! POW!
Crippled Jokes and Funny Riddles
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jokes,
riddles,
school magazine
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1 comments:
Hello Dear,
I really like your blog, it's really useful for me.
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