The Sultan heard that one of his nieces had taken to walking around with a silver platter on her head.
He summoned her to the palace and watched as she walked with grace and speed.
“Her balance is most excellent,” said an adviser.
A general agreed, “This would help the troops in combat.”
So, the Sultan sent out the order that all soldiers put silver platters on their heads.
However, his people were barely literate, so they mistook his command for putting their heads on silver platters.
His army decapitated, the enemy easily conquered his country.
And took his head.
Tag: history
Arc
Noah sat on a stool and watched the skies darken, rainclouds growing thicker.
All around him, two of every animal stood around, stinking to high heaven and making a terrible racket.
Sadly, not enough to drown out the constant shouts of “YOU FOOL!” from his wife.
He felt something… was that a drop of rain? He held out his hand, wondered if it was raining already.
“So, are you going to load up your ARK now?” sneered his wife.
Noah looked at the gigantic, narrow wooden curve he’d built and sighed.
“I swear, I thought he said arc. Damn homonyms.”
The Road Not Taken
I remember when I was little, my Papa Robert lived with us.
When it snowed, he’d wander down the road into the yellow woods.
“Go find Papa Robert,” said my father.
We’d suit up and look for him.
Sometimes, he’d take the road to the city and he’d be in the Derry coffee shop in his long johns, warming up, writing poetry.
Other times, he’d be on a side road, wandering in the undergrowth.
He lost a few toes that way.
His glasses all frosty, snow in his hair.
Today, I stand here, trying to decide.
Before my grandkids come.
Drumming Out
The first man to be drummed out of the Army was forced to march from one end of the camp to the other to the sound of drums. (His jacket was turned inside-out, too, but that was already in practice among the dishonorable.)
In the Civil War, soldiers had their heads shaved and rank insignia torn from their jackets. Officers told the troops not to touch the drummed-out soldiers, but more than one was found dead after the ceremony.
These days, the Army’s much more civil.
But the Mafia sticks guys in oil drums and tosses them into the harbor.
Coming Down The Pike
The word “turnpike” got its name from guardsmen standing at either side of a road and lowering their poleaxes to block the road until a toll was paid or a pass was shown.
These days, the pike has been replaced by a mechanical barrier or by cameras which scan for an electronic toll-paying device and capture the license plate numbers of violators.
Still, somewhere in that tollbooth, there’s a fierce-looking halberd leaning against the wall.
When the machines fail. Society breaks down, and the zombies win.
The tolls must be paid, and they certainly don’t collect themselves.
One brain please.
Babel
Crawling out from the wreckage of Babel’s Tower, survivors call out for help.
Nobody understands anybody else. The Lord has shattered our language into many tongues incomprehensible to each other.
We grunt and point and shake each other in frustration.
One grabs a shovel and begins to dig.
“To bury the bodies?” I ask.
He doesn’t understand, just keeps digging.
We drag corpses into the hole, he shouts, and throws them back out.
Ah. Yes.
I see now.
I grab a shovel. Others grab theirs.
We join him and dig.
If we cannot reach Heaven, we shall certainly reach Hell!
Middle Age
Middle Age in the Middle Ages was younger than Middle Age here in the Modern Age.
Life expectancy has greatly increased, so Middle Age comes later.
Although for most, it’s still not in the middle. If you’re going to live to seventy or eighty, fifty is past your actual middle.
Back when I was young, I misheard someone say “Middle Age” and it sounded like “Meddle Age.”
Which, considering how much Middle Aged people meddle with young people, it sounded right.
“Don’t believe a word of it!” said the Middle Aged person. “Just do what I tell you to do.”
Floodwaters
How do we make our coffee taste so good?
Sure, we spend a lot of time with the beans.
But the real secret is in the water.
You see, this water comes from The Fountain Of Youth.
Yes. The actual Fountain Of Youth.
Ponce DeLeon actually discovered it.
Then he sipped it… and died of young age.
It’s too powerful to be sipped untreated.
But if you dilute it a bit and boil it, well…
It still tastes somewhat pungent.
However, with the right beans, that pungency becomes a delicious aroma.
It brings us good health.
And healthy profits, too.
Rolling
Prisoner 280 asked the headsman’s forgiveness for stepping on his foot, and she placed her head through the guillotine’s stock.
As the sentence was read aloud, she imagined her husband enduring this same insult nine months earlier.
Unlike the king, her head did not drop into the basket, but sailed over the crowd, spinning on to the cobblestoned street.
The town militia chased after it, but it soon rolled out of sight.
They tossed her body into an unmarked grave, which meant they never knew when it was dug back up.
The resurrectionist rubs his hands together, laughing with joy.
How Cats Defeated Hitler
In an underground cafe in Berlin, sitting at a table with a bottle of something dark and crisp, an old man hobbles up to me and hands me a fluffy grey cat.
“Cats defeated Hitler,” he said, smiling.
And he walked back into the shadows.
I looked at the cat.
The cat looked at me.
And purred.
I wanted to get up and follow the old man and ask him what he meant, but the cat was so soft and furry, and the purring was so nice.
So, I just sat, drank my beer, and surrendered to the grey cat.