A Way Out

 

iq

 

I was worried about whether the passageway would take too long to dry as visitors were coming later so the cleaner suggested opening the back door to let the breeze in.

– Good idea, I said, as I went back into my study and left him to it.

It was then I could hear him struggling, groaning.

– What’s wrong? I said.

–  Darn door won’t open.

I went to have a look. He was putting his whole weight into it — and he’s a big man — and still not getting a result.

– Here, I said, demonstrating. There’s a trick to it. You pull the handle up not push it down.

– Well, I never, he said. I didn’t know they still made doors like this. It should be in a door museum.

– It’s an IQ test, I smiled. I wouldn’t worry though. It took me two days to work it out and I live here.

We both chuckled. You’ve got to give people a way out.

 

 

No One Saw it Coming

aa2155ab2193e0660ecc4af12cf247cc-w204@1x

No one saw it coming. Least of all me. I was happily ensconced in a book when it EXPLODED. Such was its force that it blew the toupee off the man in front of me and propelled the stationary bus in which we were sitting two metres forward. The sneezer himself, a dread locked man in a canary yellow suit,  whooshed around the aisle of the bus startling passengers until suitably deflated he flopped beside me flatulent as a whoopee cushion.