ElkFarm Stories

A Daily Dose of Writing

Category: Humor (page 2 of 3)

A Prayer from Little Camden


Dear God, thank you for my family and my room and thank you that Mommy and Daddy don’t fight like the neighbors do. Thanks for the nice teachers I have and for a wonderful, sometimes, sister Kylee. Thanks for the good food to eat but not broccoli. Sorry, God, I can’t thank you for broccoli.

One last thing. Grandpa piles a lot of magazines behind his chair. Please help the ladies in Grandpa’s magazines, the ones who don’t wear many clothes. I hope the people who read those magazines will send them money so they can put on more clothes.

That’s all. Until tomorrow night, your boy Camden


Pranktical Joke 2

(Suggestion: read P. Joke 1 before reading this post)

Arlen took awhile to recover from his eye injury, hiring his ex-wife to come in for an hour or two to take care of it.

A few days later he walked past the same spot, outside the Blalock Asylum. Arlen felt both nervous and curious. The citizens of Blalock again yelled a number, this time it was 15. What the heck, they aren’t going to pull that on me again. In fact, near the hole in the wall where he got poked, someone had written two words. “Look insied” He laughed, they’re can’t even spell “inside”. But he had learned his lesson.

They continued with “fifteen” loudly, in different languages. Alongside the fence he noticed a ladder, and for some reason the ladder and the ground around it was wet. Propping the ladder against the fence, it just about reached the top of the 8 foot boards. Slowly he climbed, listening to them laughing and yelling. Might this be a different game?

At the top, he peered over the rough board ends. Slowly. Seeing nothing, he climbed higher.

Suddenly, three heads popped up, smiling, still yelling “fifteen”. They quickly raised milk pails full of water, wound up, and flung water at him. The shock of the cold water took away his breath, but worse yet it knocked him backward. Helpless, he rode the ladder away from the fence in a sweeping arc.

Lying there on the roadway, trying to catch his breath, he looked up at the three faces. Wind knocked out of him, he heard them yell a new word.

Sixteen, sixteen, sixteen.


The Pranktical Joke I

The residents and patients at the Blalock Asylum on 7th Street in Port Edwards were a sharp and high functioning group. Continual pranks, staying one step ahead of the “normals” on the outside.

The old mansion stood on a path that many walked to move about the village. Often people happened by the fence that wrapped around the asylum. The special people  inside knew the fence was not to keep them in but keep the riffraff out of their world.

One day Arlen walked by, hearing a lot of shouting and laughter. They were yelling out the word twenty but because it was a multicultural group they’d also shout it out in other languages–Norwegian, German, Polish, and others. twenty, twenty, twenty, then laughing. Was it a game of some kind?

Curious, Arlen moved closer to the fence to see what was happening. A hole in the fence four feet off the ground, a good sized one, invited a look. Looking side to side to watch for people in the neighborhood, he leaned down to the hole in the 8 foot wooden fence. As he put his eye near the hole, he could see forms and chairs but nothing specific. All of a sudden, POKE. A stick poked him in the eye.

From the inside suddenly there was laughter, and they shouted out: TWENTY-ONE, and said it in 5 more languages. 21, and laughing. Arlen wasn’t laughing. twenty one, twenty one, twenty one


Humor from Kids, Twice



One day the first-grade teacher read the story of Chicken Little to her class. She came to the part where Chicken Little warns the farmer. She read, ” . . . . and Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, “The sky is falling!” The teacher then asked the class, “And what do you think that farmer said?” A little girl raised her hand and said, “I think he said, “Holy crap. A talking chicken.” The teacher took a few minutes to regain her composure.


One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm a mother was tucking her son into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked, with a tremor in his voice: “Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?” The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. “I can’t dear,” she said. “I have to sleep with Daddy.” A long silence was broken at last by his shaky little voice. “The big sissy.”


Truly, a Sick Man

My Uncle Art fought in the 2nd World War in the Pacific,  but later he traveled back to the Philippines, trying to re-establish friendships and good times from the war. His carefree life would be dangerous to us if we read the details, eating anything and everything, spending time with world-wise women, and traveling in bug infested environments. Turns out he got sick, as you would expect, but he tried to get back to the states to recover. At the airport in San Diego he collapsed, oblivious to what was happening to him. An ambulance took him to the best hospital in the area, and for a time he lay in a coma.

Waking up one morning, unfocused and bleary eyed, he realized he was alone in a hospital room. A Bible was nearby and several boxes of tissue plus an ice pack for his head. In front of him also was a telephone next to a phone number, his doctor’s number. Feeding tubes kept him alive, but he knew he had lost a good deal of weight. Slowly dialing the number, he reached his doctor; he asked the doctor what was wrong with him.

“You’ve got several diseases that we can determine, several we don’t know what they are, and others that are extremely rare.”

Asking if he’ll recover, the doctor wasn’t sure but hoped to keep him going and get his body to take care of the nasties that were moving through his body. When he asked the doctor if he’d see him in person, the doctor broke the news to him that it was too dangerous to enter the room. Only attendants and nurses with haz-mat suits had been inside his hospital room.

“What should I do?” he asked.

“Just rest, and we’ll be feeding you pizza, lefse from relatives in Wisconsin, tostadas, and more pizza.”

“That’ll cure me?”

“Yes, and also  . . . .”

Continue reading

Roller Coaster Shock

The next time yer on one of dem fancy schmancy roller coasters or thriling rides, grab a handful of nuts and bolts from your pocket, tap the person ahead of you (a fore the ride starts) and ask if he knows where dese go. “I found dem under your seat.” Then put dem away right after he, or she, starts screaming and calling for a ride helper person to come over. Then sit back and enjoy da ride, keeping your innocent look and shrugging.

Not Enough Bacon

Too big to take a bite? Maybe it’ll be easier if you get rid of that the top bun..


Rainy day, Chicago, Illinois

The ideas, customs, and social behavior of a particular people or society.
The ideas and items used by members of a society.

Hippos in South Twin Lake, Amery

Rare photo of the hippo family wallowing in the area of Mystery Island toward the middle of South Twin. Not sure who snapped the photo.

The Amery Beach had to be THE place for any Amery kid from age 5 to 17, a busy social area that made summer great and cooled us on 95 degree days. Swimming lessons on June mornings, but after that it was wide open. No lifeguards until after 1:00 on all days, but that was okay. We didn’t go there a lot in the off hours, and if we did we thought nothing of it.

BUT, a big BUT, Amery kids could not, never, ever, swim in South Twin after Labor Day.  For one thing the temps were dropping and school had begun. Less time to be at the beach, and the swimming days were only a memory of a good summer at that point.

And there was another danger.  It often made the rounds as a rumor but one with several almost stories of sightings? The story going around was that after Labor Day, the Amery department in charge of the beach and animals would release hippos into the lake, hippos that had been stored somewhere in the country, somewhere, for the summer months. We never did spot them, but again there were always stories. And what, we asked, would hippos do in the depths of winter? They were like turtles, it was explained, and they’d hibernate, burrowing down in the mud somewhere out toward the center of the lake. In spring they’d come out when it got warmer and the ice disappeared. Then the week before Memorial Day, in the darkest of dark nights, the city animal crew would call them, special calls, and they’d be hauled out in the country somewhere.

It was a fun part of local culture, and it worked. I NEVER saw a kid swim in South Twin after the first of September, nor before the end of May.

If you don’t believe this, look it up.



A Li’l Humor on Easter

We’re not getting together with our family as we did last year; good memories of last Easter’s dinner scene.

And a bit of humor below I just found, having nothing whatsoever to do with the family memories above.


Tommy goes to a fashion show and encounters the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen. He approaches her and says “I know I am not much to look
at, and I don’t have a job. In fact I live in my dad’s basement. But my
dad is a billionaire, he is terminally ill with 6 months to live and I am
his only heir.”
“That is very interesting” she says, “why don’t you give me your contact
information and I’ll see if I can make some magic happen.”
Sure enough, true to her word, 2 months later the magic happened. Tom
had a new step-mom.

Sleeping with Pigs

One evening last October, when I was far from sober
And dragging home a load with manly pride
My feet began to stutter and I fell down in the gutter
And a pig came up and parked right by my side

Then I mumbled, “It’s fair weather when good comrades get together”
Till a lady passing by was heard to say,
“You can tell a man that boozes by the playmates that he chooses”
Then the pig got up and slowly walked away

I began to scratch the gravel, on my all fours I did travel
I rambled down the road the best I could
When I awoke next morning, just as the day was dawning
I was in a hog pen away out in the woods

Then the hogs began to grumble, I started and I stumbled
I fell right in their midst and there I lay
Then one by one they started, till all the herd departed
Yes, every hog got up and walked away

Now lately I’ve been thinking that I will quit my drinking
I’m going to leave off whiskey, beer and grog
For there’s no consolation, but only aggravation
You can’t even find friends with a hog

The Watch, the Coin, and the Outhouse

This rural tale centers around an outdoor toilet; little Bradley and Grandpa are the action figures.
Visiting his grandparents for the weekend, the two men stepped into a two-holer and took care of business. As Brad stood up, a coin dropped from his pocket. It was the silver dollar that Grandma Ovidia had given him that morning.
“Grandpa, can you go get it,” he asked, looking up at his good-natured grandfather.
Grandpa Amos broke the bad news to him that it wouldn’t be worth going down there just for a dollar coin.
“We’ll find you another coin.”
Brad was stubborn and lobbied for the rescue of this dollar. In a little while they talked about other things, and Brad asked him about his pocket watch.
“ It came from my father,” he told Bradley. His father worked on the railroad and used this worn but valuable timepiece.
“ Can I see it?”
Grandpa handed it to him. Brad handled it and rubbed it to feel how smooth it was. Then without warning he dropped it into hole number two.
Grandpa couldn’t believe what he just witnessed.
“Now, Grandpa, when you’re down there getting your watch would you find my coin, please.”

The Cigar and the Balloon

Years ago at Dayton’s in Minneapolis, Cousin Jimmy and Uncle Art sat waiting for the ladies of the family. Uncle Art had just lit up his favorite cigar. Both commenting on the females of the species that went by, they noticed a cocky kid approaching. The kid held the string of a newly purchased high priced balloon, his mom next to him.
The kid looked up at Uncle Art and said, in a sassy tone: “You shouldn’t smoke. It’ll ruin your health.”

Uncle Art glared back at him, stuck his cigar on the balloon and popped it.
“Has your mom ever told you not to talk to strangers?”
Made the kid cry. Mom looked for a security officer.
Uncle Art looked at little Jimmy. “That darn balloon almost put out my cigar.”


Bits, Pieces, and a Joke

My hope is that you enjoy the writings I post  and that you contact me with any comments and suggestions. For now you can use the CONTACT section of the blog or simply email me at elkfarm@wctc.net.

These first few writings I’ll keep short. Eventually I’ll make some of them longer but will always give you the option of checking out if the piece doesn’t interest you. Like this (but you’ll miss the joke).

Continue reading

Tina and Caleb I

For those of you who have read my Elkfarm emails, you’ll recognize these two thoughtful kids. This is the initial conversation they had, on the grounds of Amery Elementary School:

Caleb. Do you like me.
–I like talking to you, you listen good.
Are we going to be friends forever?
–Not sure, Tina. We can be friends for now, for this week.
Are you staying home for Thanksgiving?
–I think so, they don’t tell me much.
We’re going to Grandpa’s.
–Oh. Turkey?
I think so, we tried ham last year and no one liked it.
–Did you see Teacher take David into the hall?
Yeah. I never want to get in trouble like him. (Tina smiled)
When he came back in before Teacher came, he walked past our table and said “farty teacher”.
(Caleb coughs, then snorts)
You okay, Caleb.
–Owww. Part of my candy bar came out my nose.
(Tina puts her arm on his back for comfort.)
Let’s be friends next week, too. Okay?
(Caleb nods as he eats the snorted candy)

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