Dog For Sale
In Tennessee, a guy sees a sign in front of a house: “Talking Dog for Sale.”
He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the backyard.
The guy goes into the backyard and sees a black mutt just sitting there.
“You talk?” he asks.
“Yep,” the mutt replies.
“So, what’s your story?”
The mutt looks up and says, “Well, I discovered this gift pretty young and I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA about my gift, and in no time they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies eight years running. The jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger and I wanted to settle down. So I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security work, mostly wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings there and was awarded a batch of medals. Had a wife, a mess of puppies, and now I’m just retired.”
The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.
The owner says, “Ten dollars.”
The guy says, “This dog is amazing. Why on earth are you selling him, so cheap?”
The owner replies, “He’s such a liar. He didn’t do any of that stuff.”
Hillbilly Valentine
Kudzu is green, My dog’s name is Blue, And I’m so lucky to have a sweet thang like you.
Yore hair is like cornsilk, A-flapping in the breeze. Softer than Blue’s, And without all them fleas.
You move like the bass, Which excite me in May. You ain’t got no scales, But I luv you anyway.
You’re as graceful as okry, Jist a-dancin’ in the pan. Yo’re as fragrant as SunDrop, Right out of the can.
You have all yore teeth, For which I am proud; I hold my head high when we’re in a crowd.
On special occasions, when you shave yore armpits, Well, I’m in hawg heaven!
I’m plumb outta my wits. And speakin’ of wits, You’ve got plenty fer shore. ‘Cuz you married me, back in ’74.
Still them fellers at work, They all want to know, What I did to deserve such a purty, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape, Yo’re there fer yore man, To patch up life’s troubles, And stick ’em in the can.
Yo’re as strong as a four-wheeler, Racin’ through the mud, Yet fragile as that sanger, Named Naomi Judd.
Yo’re as cute as a junebug, A-buzzin’ overhead. You ain’t mean like no far ant, Upon which I oft’ tread.
Cut from the best pattern, Like a flannel shirt of plaid, You sparked up my life, Like a Rattletrap shad.
When you hold me real tight, Like a padded gunrack, My life is complete; Ain’t nuttin’ I lack.
Yore complexion, it’s perfection, Like the best vinyl sidin’. Despite all the years, Yore age, it keeps hidin’.
And when you get old, Like a ’57 Chevy, Won’t put you on blocks, And let grass grow up heavy.
Me ‘n’ you’s like a Moon Pie, With a RC cold drank, We go together; Like a skunk goes with stank.
Some men, they buy chocolate, For Valentine’s Day; They git it at Wal-Mart; It’s romantic that way.
Some men git roses, On that special day From the cooler at Kroger; “That’s impressive,” I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds, From a flea market booth. “Diamonds are forever,” They explain, suave and couth.
But for this man, honey, These will not do. For you are too special, You sweet thang you.
