Speed Trap

Contributed by Maisie

A report has revealed that two traffic patrol officers from North Berwick were involved in an unusual incident whilst checking for speeding motorists on the A1 road between Oldhamstocks and Grantshouse. Last May, they were using a hand-held radar device to trap unwary motorists on the Edinburgh to London trunk road. One of the unnamed officers used the device to check the speed of an approaching vehicle, and was surprised to find that his target had registered a speed in excess of 300 miles per hour. The £5000 machine then seized up and could not be re-set by the bemused PC's.

The radar had in fact latched on to a NATO Tornado aircraft in the North Sea, which was taking part in a simulated low-flying exercise over the Borders and Southern Scotland. Following a complaint by Sir William Sutherland, Chief Constable of the Lothian and Borders Police force to the RAF liaison office, it was revealed that the officers had a lucky escape - the tactical computer on board the aircraft not only detected and jammed the "hostile" radar equipment, but had automatically armed a Maverick air-to-ground missile ready to neutralise the perceived threat. Luckily the Dutch pilot was alerted to the missile status and was able to override the automatic protection system before the missile launched.

The Police have so far declined to comment, although it is understood that officers will be advised to point their radar guns inland in future.

Wedding Speech

Contributed by Merkin

During dinner at an wedding reception, the groom rises from the head table and shushes the crowd. Everyone naturally assumes he is about to toast his bride and thank his guests. Instead, he solemnly announces that there has been a change of plan. He and his bride will be taking separate honeymoons and, when they return, the marriage will be annulled. The reason for this sudden turn of events, he says, is taped to the bottom of everyone's plate. The stunned guests quickly flip their dinnerware to discover a photo - of the bride inflagrante with the best man.

JATO

Contributed by Sam and embellished by Merkin

The Arizona Highway Patrol came upon a pile of smoldering metal embeded into the side of a cliff rising above the road at the apex of a curve. The wreckage resembled the site of an airplane crash, but it was a car. The type of car was unidentifiable at the scene. The lab finally figured out what it was and what had happened.

It seems that a guy had somehow gotten hold of a JATO unit (Jet Assisted Take Off - actually a solid rocket fuel) that is used to give heavy military transport planes an extra "push" for taking off from short airfields. He had driven his Chevy Impala out into the desert and found a long, straight stretch of road. Then he attached the JATO unit to his car, jumped in, got up some speed and fired off the JATO!

The facts as best as could be determined are the the operator of the 1967 Impala hit JATO ignition at a distance of approximately 3.0 miles from the crash site. This was established by the prominent scorched and melted asphalt at that location. The JATO, if operating properly, would have reached maximum thrust within 5 seconds, causing the Chevy to reach speeds well in excess of 350 mph and continuing at full power for an additional 20-25 seconds. The driver, soon to be pilot, most likely would have experienced G-forces usually reserved for dog-fighting F-14 jocks under full afterburners, basically causing him to become insignificant for the remainder of the event. However the automobile remained on the straight highway for about 2.5 miles (15-20 seconds) before the driver applied and completely melted the brakes, blowing the tires and leaving thick rubber marks on the road surface, then becoming airborne for an additional 1.4 miles and impacting the cliff face at the height of 125 feet leaving a blackened crater 3 feet deep in the rock.

Most of the driver's remains were not recoverable; however, small fragments of bone, teeth and hair were extracted from the crater and fingernail and bone shards were removed from a piece of debris believed to be a portion of the steering wheel.

Virtual Date

Contributed by Colonel Sellers

Online computer users often engage in what is affectionately known as "cybersex". Often the fantasies typed into the keyboards and shared through Internet phone lines get pretty raunchy. However, as you'll see below, one of the two cyber-surfers in the following transcript of an online chat doesn't seem to quite get the point of cyber sex. Then again, maybe he does...

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?

Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?

Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds. I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart. I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells funny.

Sweetheart: I want you. Would you like to screw me?

Wellhung: OK

Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom. There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table. I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.

Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.

Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse. My hands are trembling.

Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.

Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.

Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure. The cool silk slides off my warm skin. I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.

Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse. I'm sorry.

Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.

Wellhung: I'll pay for it.

Sweetheart: Don't worry about it. I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breathe harder and harder.

Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra. I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?

Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly. I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breast. My nipples are erect for you.

Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.

Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.

Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!

Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.

Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breast are covered with spit and phlegm.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm so sorry; Really.

Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.

Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.

Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.

Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!

Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.

Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you...umm...wait a minute.

Sweetheart: What's the matter?

Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.

Sweetheart: Are you OK?

Wellhung:I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.

Sweetheart: Can I help?

Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?

Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.

Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.

Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.

Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.

Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.

Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?

Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.

Wellhung: I found it.

Sweetheart: I'm tugging off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.

Wellhung: Me too.

Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies pressing each other.

Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.

Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?

Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.

Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!

Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.

Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.

Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.

Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.

Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!

Sweetheart: What's the matter now?

Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.

Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.

Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing ...in your... you know... woman's thing.

Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!

Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.

Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!

Wellhung: I'm flaccid.

Sweetheart: What?

Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.

Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.

Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my wiener all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.

Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.

Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.

Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.

Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of your candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.

Sweetheart:Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!

Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!

Sweetheart: [logged off]

Waltcicle

Suggested by JT, verified by Jimi X, and embellished by Colonel Sellers

Walt Disney was an incredibly eccentric man. For one thing, he drew mice for a living. He then pioneered the theme park. Stories about him say that he was incredibly kind to children, yet incredibly difficult to his workers. Tales abound regarding his eccentricity, so the way he chose to dispose of his body should fail to shock.

A gravestone located in Florida creates the image that he was cremated, and his ashes were interred there. They were supposedly interred in a very exclusive, mysterious, private funeral. In reality, Disney's body was cryogenically frozen and stashed in the place that gave him the most happiness. In the very heart of his life's dream, his greatest accomplishment, Walt Disney's body awaits scientific advances that can cure him completely. He lies in a vault in the original Disneyland in Anaheim, California, directly beneath the ride "Pirates of the Carribean."

Lady Driver

Contributed by Austin Morris

A lady driver repeatedly complained that her car wouldn’t run very well. It misfired, it was sluggish, wouldn’t pull the skin off a rice pudding, and drank petrol as if there was no tomorrow. But, every time the car went into the garage workshop and was tested it was found to be fine.

Finally, the garage sent a technician out with the lady to see if they could experience the problem. She was more than happy to comply, if only to get to the bottom of the problem. The mechanic walked out to the car with her and asked her to drive. She settled into the driving seat put on her seat belt, pulled out the manual choke knob to full on, and hung her handbag on it.

Contributed by Austin Morris

The following is an actual transcript of a radio conversation between the US Navy and the Canadian Coast Guard somewhere off the coast of British Columbia:

Canadian CG: We have you on radar and advise you that you are on a collision course with us. Alter course 35' north'

US Navy: We will not alter course, you alter course.

Canadian CG: We say again, you must alter course 35' north to avoid collision.

US Navy: You alter course to avoid collision.

Canadian CG: It is imperitive that you alter course now to avoid collision'

US Navy: This is the US Navy aircraft carrier Enterprise. We are 30 thousand tons and have two support cruisers and four destroyers and numerous supply ships in attendance. You alter course.

Canadian CG: We are a lighthouse, your call.

Fire Diver

Contributed by Austin Morris

As firefighters in the San Marino Hills, near San Franciso, California, surveyed the damage from a recent brush fire, they made a startling discovery. In the midst of some of the most blackened brush they found the dead body of a man dressed in full scuba gear, complete with wetsuit, tank, mask, and flippers. The body was found nearly 20 miles from any body of water. As the body had no identification, the police were dumbfounded as to the man's identity, until a day later, when a distraught wife filed a missing person's report on her husband in Monterrey.

Police have determined that he was diving in Monterrey Bay, alone, and without a flag above to warn off the pilots. Firefighting helicopters, skimming low to pick up water to dump on the fire, had picked up and included the hapless diver in its load. It is surmised that the man was trapped helpless but very much alive in the water tank, until it opened at an altitude of an estimated 250 feet. He then suffered an even more terrifying drop, which was all the more fatal because of the metal tanks strapped to his back, and the 14 pounds of lead weights attached at his waist.

Index

If you enjoyed this, go ahead and continue on to another:

• Return to the Main Page
• Go to Volume I: The Macabre
• Go to Volume III: Biological Problems
• Go to Volume IV: Tales From the University
• Check out Merkin's collection of Tech Support Urban Myths