A male patient was lying in bed in the hospital, wearing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, still heavily sedated from a difficult four-hour surgical procedure. A young student nurse came into his room, ready to give him a partial sponge bath. “Nurse,” he mumbled from behind the mask. “Are my testicles black?” Embarrassed, the young nurse replied: “I don't know, Sir. I'm only here to wash your upper body.” He struggled to ask again: “Nurse, are my testicles black?” Concerned that he might elevate his vitals from concern about his testicles, she overcame her embarrassment and sheepishly pulled back the covers. She raised his gown, held his penis in one hand and his testicles in the other, lifting and moving them around and around gently. Then, she took a close look and said: “No sir, they aren't. And I assure you, there's nothing wrong with them!!” The man weakly pulled off his oxygen mask, smiled at her and said, very slowly: “Thank you very much. That was wonderful, but listen very, very closely.... “A r e - m y - t e s t - r e s u l t s - b a c k?”

Little Johnny was in class and the teacher announced that they were going to try something different to help everyone get to know each other a little better, and to help with their spelling. She explained, "I want you to stand up and give us the occupation of your father, spell it, and say one thing he would give us all if he was here today." The first student raised her hand to volunteer. "Marcy," the teacher said. "You may go first." Marcy replied, "My father is a banker. B-A-N-K-E-R and if he was here today, he would give us all a shiny new penny." The teacher said, "Very nice, Marcy, who wants to go next?" Kevin stood up and announced, "My father is a baker. B-A-K-E-R and if he was here today, he would give us all a freshly-baked cookie." "Very good," the teacher told Kevin. Jeff was next, and he said, "My father is an accountant. A-K, no wait, A-C-K, no..." Before he could attempt to spell it once more, the teacher cut him off and told him to sit back down and to think about it for a while. When he thought he knew how to spell it, he could stand back up and try again. Little Johnny raised his hand in excitement hoping to be acknowledged by the teacher. The teacher called on little Johnny to go next. Johnny said, "My dad is a bookie. B-O-O-K-I-E and if he was here today, he would give us all 20:1 odds Jeff will never be able to spell "accountant."

Two bible salesmen, Rick and Martin, are going on their regular route when the boss rings them. "Guys," he says, "you two are my best, can you please take my sister's son Andrew with you to try him out? He's got a bit of a stutter but he's a smart boy. I promised her I'd give him a shot." The two reluctantly agree and wait for Andrew. "Wasted day." grunts Martin sadly. "Yep. Gotta help the boss though." says Rick patiently. Once Andrew arrives and, slowly, introduces himself, they are even more dismayed to discover his stutter was quite pronounced. Deciding to make the best of it, they go from door to door with Martin and Rick showing Andrew their sales pitches. After the first couple of hours and a few neighborhoods, they had sold 7 bibles. At the next neighborhood, Andrew shyly asks: "D-d-d you m-m-mind if I t-t-t-t take the nex-x-x-t-t-t one?" The other two exchange embarrassed looks. They both knew how impatient people are. Andrew seemed like a nice boy, and they didn't want his hopes crushed. But there was no help to it. "Well," Rick drawled, "he'll have to learn sooner or later. You take the next one, kid." Andrew asks them to wait for him and he makes his way to the first few houses. After about 15 minutes they spot him making his way back. They are initially glad to see he didn't seem crushed or disappointed, then shocked when he brandishes money for 10 bibles sold. "What in goodness name did you DO, kid?" Martin whispers, staring at the money. “I-I-I t-t-t-told them t-t-t that they c-c-c-could b-b-b-buy a b-b-b-bible or I-I w-w-w-would r-r-read it t-t-t-to them.” Says Andrew.

A young monk arrives at the monastery. He is assigned to helping the other monks in copying the old canons and laws of the church by hand. He notices, however, that all of the monks are copying from copies, not from the original manuscript. So, the new monk goes to the head abbot to question this, pointing out that if someone made even a small error in the first copy, it would never be picked up! In fact, that error would be continued in all of the subsequent copies. The head monk, says, 'We have been copying from the copies for centuries, but you make a good point, my son.' He goes down into the dark caves underneath the monastery where the original manuscripts are held as archives in a locked vault that hasn't been opened for hundreds of years. Hours go by and nobody sees the old abbot . So, the young monk gets worried and goes down to look for him. He sees him banging his head against the wall and wailing. 'We missed the R! We missed the R! We missed the R!' His forehead is all bloody and bruised and he is crying uncontrollably. The young monk asks the old abbot, 'What's wrong, father?' With a choking and tear filled voice, the Abbot screams: "The word was... the word was... c e l e b r a t e!"