Another Horrible Chicken Joke

One of my followers, Dave Lewis, sent me this! He obviously has no more pride than I do.

Mom and Dad were taking the kids on a drive to the lake when Dad spotted an animal running down the road ahead of them at a fast clip. So Dad speeds up to see what it was and sees that it’s a chicken with three legs going like hell.He stops when he spots a farmer and asks him about the chicken. The farmer tells him he raises them so he and his wife and son can all get a drumstick at supper time. How do they taste asks Dad? Don’t know says the farmer they’re so fast that I haven’t been able to catch one yet!

Charley’s Tale Part 19

It wasn’t long before Robert and Bobby came in to find Bessie, apparently at her leisure, with Charles and Charley getting dinner on the table.  “Bessie, what in the world’s goin’ on?  Why is they cookin’ and you’ a settin?” Robert queried.  “Where’s Freddy?  I see the truck’s back an’ left the door standin’ open.”  Robert wasn’t the type to like seeing his truck door hanging open.

“I got popped with grease frying chicken and Dr. Charles made me set an’ keep a cool rag on it?  It’s some better bit it’s still painin’ me pretty good.”  She answered.  “I thought Freddy went after y’all.”

“No, we ain’t seen him.  Howdy, Dr. Charles.  I sure hate Bessie had to put you fellers to work.  Let me wash up an’ help you finish gittin’ dinner on the table.”  Robert was uncomfortable seeing Dr. Charles doing women’s work.

“No, just sit on down.  Charley can pour the tea while I check Bessie’s arm and then we can eat.”  As he unwrapped the arm, Freddy came up the back steps with an elderly neighbor.  Mr. Roscoe was well-known as a natural healer, frequently called in by neighbors to tend burns, stop bleeding, and cure headaches and snakebites.

“Mama, I fetched Mr. Roscoe.  Remember how he healed my foot when I stepped in them hot ashes?”

Robert and Bessie looked awkwardly between Dr. Charles and Mr. Roscoe, not wanting to offend either.  Seeing the doctor’s open medical bag, the ancient gentleman set them all at their ease.  “Looks like there ain’t no need, now.  I’ll just get on back to my plowing.”

“Oh no.  Don’t leave.  There’s more than one kind of healing.  The Good Lord gave us all different gifts.  It would be a sin not to use them.”  He unwrapped the blistered arm for Mr. Roscoe’s inspection.

Bessie sucked in a quick breath as the warm kitchen air hit it. “Ooh!  It still hurts purty bad.”

Mr. Roscoe gently cupped his wrinkled old hand over the burn and muttered a few words.  When he removed his hand, the redness was gone, though the blister remained.  “Now, you need to be sure to keep that wrapped in a clean cloth till that blister goes down.”

“It don’t hurt no more!  How did you do that?  What did you say?” Bessie asked.

“Just a little prayer.  The healing come from God.  My daddy had the gift, too.”  Mr. Roscoe answered.  “I guess I better git back to my plowing, now that’s done.”

“No, no! You gonna stay for dinner.  We got to eat up this here fried chicken that tried to cook Bessie.”  Robert said.  “Freddy, git him a plate and some ice tea while I git another chair.”

As soon as Robert said grace and were through passing the food around, Dr. Charles turned to Mr. Roscoe.  “I’ve always heard of faith healing, but never seen it.  That burn just faded out and now she has no pain.  How does that work?  Did you feel something or touch it?”

“I don’t know how it works.  I just know it does.  I don’t touch it.  I just pray over it and see it gittin’ better in my mind.  God worked through my daddy, too.  I got four brothers and two sisters and ain’t none of them been blessed with the gift.  Daddy got it from his grandma.  She got it from her mama.  There ain’t no way to tell how it goes down.  My mama had a headache one day when I was about thirteen.  Daddy had tried but couldn’t help her, so he told me to try.  Her headache was gone in a minute and never came back, though she’d suffered for years.” Mr. Roscoe explained.  “Sometimes the healing don’t happen.  It ain’t enough to just want to help.  I’ve learned not to try to heal ever’thing I am asked to.  If I don’t feel “the nudge,” it ain’t gonna do no good.  A few times I have felt “the nudge” and gone when I wasn’t asked. The first time, I woke up about four-thirty one morning and felt pushed to go to Homer Smith’s.  He’d just settled in with his family.  I hadn’t met him but once after a camp meeting.  I felt like a pure fool and didn’t want to go bustin’ in on nobody that time of morning, but I just couldn’t get no peace till I got up and headed over.  I figured I could just wait around outside a little bit an’ maybe tell if they was a problem.  Sure enough, when I got close, ever’ light was on.  I went up to speak to Homer when he come out to smoke just as Miz Presser, the midwife come out.  I heared her telling him his Janie was bleeding real bad after the baby an’ they was nothin’ she could do.  She said Pore Janie wasn’t gonna last long and that puny little baby probably ain’t gonna make it without no mama to nurse it.  They was gonna need the preacher fast.  Homer was crying like a baby, hisself.  He went back to Janie and I asked Miz Presser if it would be alright to see if I could stop Janie’s bleeding.  She asked Homer and he agreed, since they was nothin’ to lose.  I prayed over her an’ the bleedin’ stopped right off.  That boy is grown now with big ol’ young’uns of his own now.  I learned then don’t never say no to “the nudge.”

He paused before going on with his story.  “The hard thing is, I cain’t always help folks when things is bad.  I always go pray for ‘em, but sometimes I know to just pray for peace and relief of pain.  It sure is hard knowing ever’body cain’t be healed.  Folks can be awful hurt over that.”

“I feel that, too, Mr. Roscoe.  It sure hurts knowing you can’t do anything for a person’s body.  All that’s left is to hope you’ve been some comfort to them and the family.

 

Bad Chicken Jokes

Miracle

The devout cowboy lost his Bible while he was out on the range.
A few days later, a chicken walked up to him carrying the Bible in its mouth.
The cowboy couldn’t believe his eyes.
He took his Bible from the chicken, raised his eyes heavenward and shouted,  “It’s a miracle!”
“Not really,” said the chicken. “Your name is written inside the cover.”

Drunk Chicken
A man and his chicken walk into a bar, ready for a good night of drinking.
They start slowly, watching TV, drinking beer, eating peanuts. As time goes on they move to mixed drinks, and then shooters till the bartender says: “Last call.”
So, the man calls out, “One more for me… and one more for my chicken.”
The bartender sets them up and they shoot them back. Suddenly, the chicken falls over dead.
The man puts on his coat and starts to leave.
The bartender, yells: “Hey buddy, you can’t just leave that lyin’ there.”
To which the man replies: “That’s not a lion, that’s a chicken.

Movies
A man in a movie theater is surprised to see a chicken sitting next to him.
“Are you really a chicken?” asked the man?
“Yes.”
“What are you doing at the movies?”
The chicken replied, “ I liked the book.

Dirty Women

lbeth1950's avatarNutsrok

pig in slopI just get dirty. I don’t mean my shoes have little smudges. I look like I fell in the garbage every day. I don’t understand it. When I worked, I dressed and left the house just like everyone else. By the time I got to work, I had stepped in something, spilled coffee on myself, or rubbed up against something and gotten a spot on my clothes. As the day went on, I was sure to end up with ink spots on my hands and/or clothes and have a few spots. I sponged the worst off, but still got home a mess.
I wear my oldest clothes in the yard and make no effort to stay clean. After a few hours of digging, hauling, moving rocks, and planting, I look like I have been rolling in the mud. That doesn’t bother me in the least. When I am done working…

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Saturday Smiles – old ads — soulgifts – Telling Tales

These are oh so NOT politically correct. You have been warned ……. Steps for Peace Smile – at everyone you meet

via Saturday Smiles – old ads — soulgifts – Telling Tales

Boy!!!

Charley’s Tale Part 18

Drowsing as Bessie fried chicken and caught Dr. Charles up on farm news, Charley was jarred from sleep as Freddy stumbled up the back steps with a heavily-laden cardboard box in bringing supplies. Though he danced nimbly trying to regain his balance, he lost control.   As it banged to the kitchen floor, the ominous sound of breaking glass competed with the clattering of the screen door.  Bessie jumped and dropped a piece of chicken into the sizzling skillet, the back-splash raising a blister on her arm.

“Lord have mercy, Boy!  Now, you done made me burn myself with this hot grease!  Lawdy! Lawdy!  Sometimes I b’lieve the Devil owed me a debt and paid me off in wild boys!”  She turned to Freddy furiously, holding a towel to her burned arm.  Ain’t I done told about banging that confounded door?”

“Aw, Mama!  I am so sorry!  You know I didn’t go to.  I just lost my step and was tryin’ to save your jars.  Lemme git you some butter for that burn and I’ll clean them jars up!”  He was stricken as only a boy who’s hurt his mother could be.  “You know I wouldn’a never done that a’purpose.”  He was near to wailing as he dug in the icebox for the butter.”

“Here, let me help.  Charley, can you watch the chicken while I take care of Bessie?  Freddy, can you see to the groceries?”  Freddy was long gone when he looked around.  “Sit down here at the table, Bessie, while I get some ice water.  You don’t want to use butter on that burn.  That holds in the heat and makes it burn worse.”  Charles immersed a clean dish towel in ice water and wrapped it loosely around the burned arm.  “Doesn’t that feel better?  Let’s cool it a little, then see how bad it is.”  He carefully unwrapped the arm, revealing a reddened area with a quarter-sized water-filled blister.  “Well, that’s going to hurt some, but it sure could have been worse.  Let’s just keep it clean and cool till you’re ready to go to bed.  We’ll wrap it up then and you can keep it up on a pillow.  I’ll give you something to help with the pain so you can sleep.”

“I sure dread for you to open that blister.  I know it’s gonna hurt.”  Bessie moaned.

“I’m not gonna open it.  That blister will keep infection out.”  The doctor explained.  By now, things had settled down enough for him to check on Charley and the frying chicken.  “Charley, go ahead and clean those groceries up.”  He was careful not to mention the missing Freddy as he turned the chicken and Charley swept up broken glass.

“It’s not so bad.”  Charley remarked.  “Only two jars broke.  At least nobody got cut.”

“That’s a blessing.”  Charles told them.  “One of the saddest things I ever saw was a little boy that fell running home from his grandma’s with a jar of honey.  The broken jar went straight in his heart and he was dead before I got there.  It just about killed his grandma.”

The sad story reminded Bessie of Freddy falling up her kitchen steps with her box of jars.  “Aw, Lawd have mercy!  Where’s Freddy?  He might’a run off all cut up and be a’layin’ somewhere a’bleedin’ right now.  Lawd have mercy!  Is my pore boy cut up an’ me just a’hollerin’ at him?”

“No, Bessie.  I didn’t see any blood.  He probably just ran off to get Robert.  You just sit here and let me and Charley finish cooking.  Robert and the boys will be here any minute.  Here’s you a glass of tea.  Now, don’t that feel fine, watching somebody else cook?”  Charles asked.

“It shore does, but I don’t reckon I better get used to it.  Nobody but me has cooked in this kitchen since Miss Geneva died.  Bless her heart.”

 

Southern Fried Chicken

Chicken pieces of your choice

1 cup flour

1/2 cup cornmeal

salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic powder(I use about 1 tsp on each)

oil (canola, corn, peanut vegetable)

Combine all dry ingredients in l gallon zip lock freezer bag.  Add washed and dried chicken and shake.  I usually shake about six or eight pieces at a time.  Drop in hot oil 350 degrees.  (if you have the nerve to try it, drop safety match in hot oil.  will ignite at exactly 350 degrees.  My husband always swears I’m going to burn the house down, but I never have, and he loves my fried chicken.) Fry  6 to 7 minutes on each side till golden brown.  Test with meat thermometer.  Internal temp should be 165-170 degrees.  Drain on rack.

 

Monday Funnies… — Chris The Story Reading Ape’s Blog

via Monday Funnies… — Chris The Story Reading Ape’s Blog

Caturday funnies — copycat edition — bluebird of bitterness

via Caturday funnies — copycat edition — bluebird of bitterness

Why you should never ride a bicycle into the middle of a snowball fight — bluebird of bitterness

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