The Strange Orange Cat.
One day a strange Orange cat came to the Catville. The other cats walked over to him and said, “boy, that’s strange”.
The strange Orange cat didn’t understand that. “Dear brethren, what art thou meaneth by being strangeth?” he asked.
“Well for a start, you talk strange. I mean, who speaks like that anymore,” said one of the cat, the older one. He had a Hitler moustache and a Calvin Clein eyepatch, though it read Kevin Kline.
“Alright, I speak the way you speak, which is the way the village idiot back in hometown speaks,” said the strange orange cat.
“Who are you calling Village?” shouted a young cat, a rebel cat.
“Calm down,” said the strange orange cat as he pointed its index finger ala-jedi, only quick to realise that it has mere paws. The rebel actually calmed down, sucking his mother’s milk.
“Your bearing,” said the older cat, “it’s strange”.
Realised what they were talking about, the strange orange cat launched, “that’s right folks! Come over. I have here some ball bearings you can use to replace your old ones in your vehicles. These may look strange but they are awesome…”
The Stubbon Octopus
Mother and Father Octopus had a big headache in their, well, if you call that gigantic alien head thingy head. Their son is stubborn.
“You are stubborn, junior,” the dad told him after helping himself to a scuba diver. “Why are you so stubborn,” he asked after picking a piece of oxygen tank off his teeth.
“How do I know? Where do you think I inherited it from? The cuttlefish?” the son retorted. There was a gulping sound, though he was not sure where it came from.
“You can’t be stubborn all the time, junior,” said the red-faced Mother Octopus. “Even god took a break on Sundays.
“That explains,” exclaimed Father Octopus, raising all its seven arms (he lost one during the 7 Days Octopus/Scallop War). “Junior was born on Sunday!” He hi-fived with his wife, though Mother Octopus’ eighth arm slipped and slapped him in the face.
Moral of the story: Answers to some mysteries should come within. Like checking stuff out in the toilet if you forgot what you ate yesterday.
The Sleepy Snake.
On one fine morning where rain didn’t threaten to fall and flood the entire jungle, a young tree frog was leaping towards the jungle Cafeteria. The menu was themed Lobster and it brought with it extra butter.
But it literally stumbled into something causing the butter hit a chameleon which immediately roasted its own tail smothered in butter and ate gleefully.
The “thing” that the frog stumbled on was a snake! Frightened it froze, and it admitted itself into a microwave to thaw. It came back and looked at what frightened him. The snake was there and it was snoring.
Thoroughly embarrassed, the frog woke the snake up using a .45 Smith & Wesson shot in the air, killing the chameleon instantly (Funeral day will be announced shortly).
The bang woke the snake up. “Why didn’t you, like, give me a chase or something? I would have escaped and have an awesome table conversation with my buddies over lunch.”
The snake said, “I was cursed. I was supposed to sleep for 200 years before a fairy serpent comes to take me away”
“Oh crap,” said the frog realising that he shouldn’t have interrupted the snake, “I broke the curse. What will happen, now?”
The snake shook a little, looked up in the sky fearfully and said, “It’s going to rain, let’s go and grab some lunch.”
“Sure,” said the frog and both headed to the Cafeteria.
The mute goat.
The mute goat made its living by selling dried fish in the vegetable market. It did poorly as, though it knows sign language, using front hoofs make it fall forward and hurt its chin.
It was always in pain and it tells itself, “Bear, bear” to bear the pain. That’s why goats make that sound. Get it? Beaaarrr.
One day the owner of the market came to the mute goat and said, “Look, you need to pay the rent. So do something about your fall and sign-language thingy, most patrons think you are begging. By the way, this is a vegetable market. Hullo? I see you here with those dried fishes, you don’t want to know where I’m gonna shove it in and trust me the Brahmins aunties won’t like it either”.
The goat was very sad. Selling dried fish is the only way to make a living, though some of his friends suggested equally thankless jobs sanitation worker or being a prime minister.
One day it went to the mountain to see the wise and sage mountain goat. It explained its problem. The mountain goat said, “Go back to your routine tomorrow, your problem solved!”
The next day it went to the market and started to sell the dried fish. As client came and he lifted his hoofs, it fell forward. This time the pain was minimal. There was pain, but not like before. Why? Voila! It had grown a beard on its chin to cushion the impact of the fall. The goats you see these days are all from common ancestor, ie the mute goat.
Moral of the story: What moral? Old Grouch was just giving you the origin story. Does it have to have message all the time?