Tarzan's Tripes Forever, and Other Feghoots

The Web's Original Shaggy Dog Story Archive


A Tribute to Higher Education

Category: Rated PG-13, Shaggy Dogs

This sad, rude tail is VERY old, one of those I cannot help but remember from my misspent youth.


Once upon a time, a young man went to the circus. He was very excited, as he lived in western Manitoba, the kind of town where you shave and the trolley stops, and had never seen a circus before. Anyway, as the circus days drew near, the young man grew ever more excited. He arrived before dawn to get the best seat in the house, and was seated hours before the first trapeze act. Finally, the trapeze artists gave an awe-inspiring performance, the elephants danced, and the lion tamer tamed.

At last, the clowns came out in full regalia and green hair. They rode around by the gross in a purple Volkswagen. The volksie pulled up to the center of the ring, and an overweight clown with orange hair, acne, and a purple nose advanced to the podium: “Will the person in section A, row Y, seat 42 please stand up?”

The young man looked at his ticket, and to his surprise, he was sitting in that very seat. The young man stood up. Clown sez, “Wellllll, there’s the horse’s ass, now where’s the rest of the horse?”

The man, dumbfounded, stood for a moment, then made his way quickly through the crowd and out of the tent. Returning home, the man wept for days, and mourned the loss of dignity and honor. Eventually reason overcame his grief and the man grew determined. “I’m not going to get mad, I’m going to get even, and avenge the honor of myself, my family, and this town,” exclaimed the man.

He picked up the curriculum guide for the University of Nevada at Las Vegas (UNLV) correspondence courses and started to read. Eventually his eyes came to rest on an advertisement for a class in “Quick Wit Retorts.” “Learn how to use those snappy comebacks to your advantage, now!” So the man sent in his $19.95 and soon received the course materials. In a few weeks, the man mastered the materials, and sent the final back to UNLV. Much to his surprise, a registered letter arrived from the president of UNLV. It read: Dear Sir: We are utterly flabbergasted at your performance in Quick Wit Retorts 101. We would be most gratified if you could come to UNLV to complete your degree with our fine academic institution. Here’s a check to cover your expenses.

To make a long story short, the man made straight A’s in the QWR program. He was awarded numerous distinctions and honors, and when he graduated, the graduation speaker Ed Meese awarded the man the Presidential Medal of Outstanding Quick Wit Retorts, signed by Bill himself!

Some days afterward, Harvard University sent a Lear Jet to pick the man up for an interview. The graduate admissions officer didn’t mince words. “If you complete our masters/doctoral tenured track program in QWR, you will never have to worry about money again,” said he.

Needless to say, the man promptly moved to Cambridge. In 5 years, the man had finished his doctorate. By this time, the man was known throughout the world as the leading expert in Quick Wit Retorts. Word had even reached western Manitoba, which made his mother very proud. Everyone from the Pentagon pundits to Beltway bandits consulted the man on technical questions of QWR.

One day, while sitting at his desk reading his hometown newspaper, the man noticed that the circus was coming to his hometown again. An evil smile crossed the man’s face. “Siegfried,” cried the man to his assistant, “We must be away to Manitoba. Ready the jet!” As the plane crossed the downlands of Michigan, the man savored the moment of victory that was to be his.

The man arrived at the circus tent very early, making sure to get the seat in section A, row Y, seat 42. Finally, the trapeze artists gave an awe-inspiring performance, the elephants danced, and the lion tamer tamed.

At last, the clowns came out in full regalia and green hair. They rode around by the gross in a purple Volkswagen. The volksie pulled up to the center of the ring, and an overweight clown with orange hair, acne, and a purple nose advanced to the podium: “Will the person in section A, row Y, seat 42 please stand up?” The man glanced at his ticket. This time he was ready. Clown sez, “Wellllll, there’s the horse’s ass, now where’s the rest of the horse?”

The man rose to his feet, full of confidence. He thrust out his chest and said in the loudest voice you can imagine: “FUCK YOU, CLOWN!!!!”

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