Category: Campfire Stories – Funny

A doctor was just starting out on his own, when he found that he just had too much work to do. Now this man was brilliant, and had particularly good peple skills. Once he got a patient, they would just not see anyone else.
It seems that this man had been reading recently about the advances in cloning, and decided to have a clone made of himself to do his work.

For years it worked perfectly. His clone took care of all his patients, and he got to relax. However, the clone began to have some personality disorders. it would insult patients, and treat them very badly. It got soo bad that business was suffering. The doctor decided that he just had to get rid of the clone or loose his business.

So……one morning on their morning jog…. they jogged right over a bridge. The doctor pushed the clone over to his death.

The doctor again began seeing his old patients, and things were going exceptionally well, until a fisherman "caught" the dead clone body in the river. When the police found that the real doctor was still, in fact, alive, and that this was a clone, they didn’t know just what to charge the doctor for doing wrong. After much deliberation, they decided to charge him for… Making an obscene clone fall.

King Arthur sends Sir Lancelot out on an important mission to deliver a message to the king of Spain. It is a long distance, and Lancelot looks in the Kingdom for a good horse to take him there. His own horse is sick, and all he can find is an old mare, but, since he has to leave quickly, he takes the mare.
About 3 days out of the Kingdom, Lancelot realizes his mistake. The horse gets tired and appears to be going lame. He finally makes it to a small village and gets to the Inn. He goes up to the Innkeeper and explains his problem. That is, he needs a good horse so that he can fulfill his mission to deliver the message for the king. The Innkeeper replies that this is only a small village, and most of the horses around are not up to the task. He is welcome to look around, however, and if he can find anything, he is certainly welcome to it.

Lancelot looks around the village, and true as the Innkeeper has said, no good horse is to be found. As Lancelot is about to give up, he comes across a stable boy carting some feed. He asks the stable boy if there is any beast of burden in the village that he can use to fulfill his mission. The stable boy thinks for a minute, and starts to reply no, but then says, go see if Old Mange in the barn can help you.

Lancelot goes over to the barn expecting to find a horse. What he finds is a very large dog: almost as large as a pony. The dog is a mess, however. It is mangy, parts of its fur are falling off, and it is full of fleas. Lancelot is desperate at this point, and he looks it over carefully. It does, however, appear to be strong enough to take him to Spain (which is only 3 days away at this point).

Lancelot goes back to the Innkeeper, and acknowledges that he cannot find a horse in the village that he can use. He says, however that this dog, Old Mange, might be able to take him most (if not all) of the way to his destination. The Innkeeper hears this, stiffens up, and says : Sir. I wouldn’t send a Knight out on a dog like that.

A young boy was traveling on a long train trip across Canada. Sitting across from him was an older man, very neatly and precisely dressed. Across his knees he carried a briefcase upon which he nervously drummed his fingers. Since he looked to be rather an angry sort of man, the boy didn’t like to start a conversation.

Presently the man opened the briefcase and took out two paper napkins, a pocketknife and an apple. Carefully he peeled and cored the apple. He placed all the peelings on one of the two napkins and folded it into a neat parcel. Then he moved his briefcase to one side, stood up, and walked to the end of the coach. By craning his neck, the boy was able to watch him move out onto the little platform at the end of the car and throw the parcel of peel onto the tracks.

When the man returned he dusted his hands, sat down and lifted the briefcase back up across his knees. He picked up the peeled and cored apple, carefully cut it into thin slices, placed the slices onto the second napkin and made a similar neat parcel. To the boy’s amazement he then repeated his routine. He moved to the end of the coach and threw the parcel on the line. When he returned, he picked up his briefcase, took out two more napkins and an orange which he began to peel…

(Now you spin out the story, having the man take all kinds of fruit, one at a time, from his case, peel each piece and throw away first the peel and then the fruit itself)

At last the young boy could contain himself no longer and simply had to ask the man what he was doing.

"I’m making a fruit salad," said the man.

"Then why do you keep throwing it away?" the boy asked.

"I should think that was obvious," snapped the man. "I’m throwing it away because I don’t like fruit salad!"

One hot and dry day in the Wild West, this dog walks into a saloon and says, “Gimme a beer”. Evidently this type of thing wasn’t too rare ’round those parts because the bartender said, "I’m sorry, but we don’t serve dogs here." The dog then took out a silver dollar, dropped it on the bar, and said, “Look, I got money, and I want a beer.” This scene had the potential to get ugly. The bartender, getting a little irate, said one more time, “We do not serve dogs here. Please leave.” The dog growled, so the bartender pulled out a gun and shot the dog in the foot! The dog yelped and ran out the door.
The next day, the swinging bar doors were tossed open and in walks the dog that had been in the saloon the day before. He was dressed all in black. A black cowboy hat, a black vest, three black cowboy boots and one black bandage. The dog looks around, waits for the talking to quiet down, and says, “I’m lookin’ fer the man who shot my paw.”

The armies of Alexander the Great were greatly feared in their day, but there was one problem that they had that almost defeated them. Alexander could not get his people to staff meetings on time. He always held the meetings at 6:00PM each day after the day’s battle was done, but frequently his generals either forgot or let the time slip up on them and missed the staff meeting. This angered Alexander very much, to say the least!
The next day, the swinging bar doors were tossed open and in walks the dog that had been in the saloon the day before. He was dressed all in black. A black cowboy hat, a black vest, three black cowboy boots and one black bandage. The dog looks around, waits for the talking to quiet down, and says, "I’m lookin’ fer the man who shot my paw."

I remember it was about that time that Jim Sloane used to work at the YMCA. Now that was a character. He was, in my opinion, an unusual individual who was interested in some rather exotic subjects. The most unusual thing about him was his pet, (rumored to have been captured somewhere in Africa) which reminded me of a piece of granite with eyes, which he called Teddy. Teddy typically just sat there, doing nothing, but sometimes it lifted a lower edge and sucked in powdered sugar. That was all it ate. No one ever saw it move, but every once in a while it wasn’t where people thought it was. There was a theory that it moved when no one was looking.

Tim Bellamy, a lifeguard, constantly ridiculed poor Teddy, saying mean and nasty things about it. Laverty’s pet looked like an iguana, and to me, at least, was the ugliest looking thing that you would ever want to see. He called this ‘iguana’ by the unlikely name of Dolly.

Well, one day Sloane had had enough of these comments, and challenged Bellamy to a race. His Teddy against Bellamy’s Dolly. And to make things a bit more interesting, he suggested a rather hefty wager on the outcome, which Bellamy quickly agreed to. Soon everyone got into the act. Every one of them bet on Dolly. At least it moved. Sloane covered it all. He’d been saving his salary for some time (for some exotic project, no doubt) and put every penny of it on Teddy.

The race course was set in the basement garage. At one end, two bowls were set out, one with powdered sugar for Teddy, and another with ground meat for Dolly. Dolly started off at once and began moving along the floor slowly toward the meat. All in attendance cheered it on.

Teddy just sat there without budging.

"Sugar, Teddy. Sugar." said Sloane, pointing. Teddy did not move. It looked more like a rock than ever, but Sloane did not seem concerned.

Finally, when Dolly had ‘ran’ half-way across the garage, Sloane said casually to Teddy, "If you don’t get out there, Teddy, I’m going to get a hammer and chip you into pebbles."

That was when people realized how truly different Teddy was. Sloane had no sooner made his threat when Teddy just disappeared from its place and re-appeared smack on top of the sugar.

Sloane won, of course, and he counted his winnings slowly and luxuriously.

Bellamy said bitterly, "You knew that it would do that."

"No, I didn’t," said Sloane, "but I knew he would win. It was a sure thing."

"How come," said Laverty.

"It’s an old saying everyone knows. Sloane’s Teddy wins the race."

I had been asked to make the rounds of the local farms one week in the absence of my boss, Dr. Johnson. Most of the week was uneventful; I saw the usual horse vaccinations, sprained dog paws, and sick cows. However, when I got to the MacPherson farm, I saw something extraordinary.

While I was talking to farmer MacPherson, a pig came ambling around the corner of the barn. What was extraordinary about it was that the pig had three artificial legs!

I asked farmer MacPherson about this curious animal. Why would anybody give a pig even one artificial leg, much less three?

“Wal,” he drawled, “that there ain’t no ordinary pig. Let me tell you — one day ah was out baling some hay, and I hopped off’n the tractor to check the tire, which was kinda wobbly. Wouldn’t’cha know it, the tractor started to roll of its own accord, and trapped me right there under the wheel. Just then old Pinky — the pig, that is — wandered by and saw whut’d happen, and skeedadled back to the house and fastened his teeth on my wife’s dress, and wouldn’t let go until he dragged her out to where I was layin’, and then she got the tractor off me. That’s one smart pig — better’n Lassie, I’d say.”

I was quite impressed. I knew pigs were pretty intelligent, but I had never heard of a pig doing anything like that. “That’s amazing,” I said, “But that still doesn’t explain the artificial limbs.”

“Wal, lemme tell ya about another time,” MacPherson said. “Mah son was down at the swimmin’ hole yonder a couple summers ago, and he hit his head on a big log out in the middle of the water. He was about to go down for the third time, when ol’ Pinky jumped into the water, swam out to him, grabbed him by the shorts with the teeth, and drug ‘im coughin’ an’ splutterin’ up onto shore. Saved mah son’s life, that pig did.”

“Incredible!” I exclaimed. “Most pigs can’t even swim! But the artificial legs…?”

“Wal, last year the old farmhouse burned down,” the farmer continued. “Like as not we all would have been cinders, but for that little porker. We was all asleep when the fire started, but ol’ Pinky ran squealing ’round the house ’til we all woke up, and went and dragged my youngest daughter from her bedroom just seconds ‘fore the roof collapsed.”

“That’s one special pig,” I admitted, “But please, tell me, why does Pinky have three artificial legs?”

“Wal,” said farmer MacPherson, “A pig like that’s just too good to eat all at once.”

It came to pass that a very poor peasant was down to his last meal.
Deciding he could no longer live in squalor, he decide to sell the only thing he owned… his talking mule. These was no ordinary Francis type of talking mule, this one could tell jokes and sing and keep the local townspeople very happy. With much regret, the peasant sets off to the big city to sell his mule.

He sets up on a street corner and the mule draws an immediate crowd. The mule is so funny that the crowds can’t remain standing because they’re laughing so hard. Finally, a man comes up to the peasant and says "I’m a talent scout for The Tonight Show. I MUST have your mule for our show." Unfortunately, the talent scout had just been pick pocketed, and had lost his wallet. The only thing of value he had was a subway token. He convinced the peasant to trade the mule for the "Magic Token of Good Fortune" and secured the mule.

On the way home, the peasant realized that he had been taken, and he was broken hearted. He used his subway token to get him to the edge of the city. When he put the token in the slot, alarms went off and he was notified that he was the 1 billionth rider of the subway, and that he just won 50 million dollars.

Meanwhile, the Mule was so funny that he took over Jay’s job, and eventually put Dave, Conan, John and every other late nighter out of business. The Morale of the story: A Mule that is funny is soon bartered.