Death Trumps All The Rest

I like to consider myself well traveled and to have a cache of tales to tell. Some are taller than others, but at the core of each story is at least a seed of truth. There was the unfortunate dance floor incident with a one armed man in Melbourne. And who could forget about the howler monkey in Guatemala? Then there were the two Spaniards in the desert in India. Such fond memories.

These jewels in my crown however, are really quite tame. The other night, the boys from the UK, Lord Fauntleroy, Mr. Underpants and I were out for a bit of Indian food before heading off to the Rex and we played a little game called “what is the strangest thing that has ever happened to you?”

It turns out that Andy used to work with a certain lady that always assumed the worst. One morning, the news in Manchester reported that a decapitated body was found floating in the river. They gave a description of the deceased right down to the clothes he was wearing. Andy had worn a similar sweater the day before and his co-worker, thinking the worst, as she was want to do, called the police and told them the name of the victim.

Andy later had to go to the police station to prove that he was, in fact, alive. He and the officers had a good chuckle over it and Andy went on his merry little way. Later, he was dismayed to find out that the corpse belonged to a short, middle age, Greek man with a hairy back and man boobs. Poor guy.

Lord Fauntleroy had a charming story too but more intriguing was his rant about little kids ALWAYS having jam on there fingers. “How the bloody hell do kids get jam on their hands at 3:00 in the afternoon when there hasn’t been any jam out since breakfast seven hours ago?” We all had a good little chuckle over that one.

Mr. Underpants stole the show thought with a rather short, concise story. He simply said “I’ve been dead twice.” As a youngster he had serious heart trouble, all those long hours at the office do take there toll, and they had to stop his ticker so they could tinker with it.