A Red Indian chief is very constipated. He goes to the chemists in town, holds up his hand in Indian fashion and says, "How. Big Chief no s**t." They give him some Beechams Pills and tell him to come back if there is no result.
Two days later the chief is back. "How. Big Chief still no s**t." This time they give him Syrup of Figs.
Two days later he's back. "How. Big Chief still no s**t." This time they give him Castor Oil and tell him to drink the whole bottle.
They are just locking up for the night when there is a faint scratching at the door. They look down and there, on his hands and knees, looking white, shaken and a mere shadow of his former self, is the chief. "H-h-how," he stutters feebly. "Big s**t, no Chief!"
Hello Again!
4 months ago
2 comments:
Hmmm! Reminds me of the time I left hospital after having my first child. Before I left, a nurse gave me Epsom Salts to 'dry my milk up', since he 'couldn't' breastfeed. There were a couple of generous teaspoonfuls in the cup. Some time later, halfway up the stairs at home, holding my new baby, I was suddenly, explosively and revoltingly incontinent. When the community midwife arrived she was horrified at the dose I'd been given. Anyway, it didn't dry up my milk and it didn't need drying up. The reason neither of us could take to breastfeeding was all the interference and prodding and poking from the hospital staff.
The point of all that was to say, I know how poor 'no chief' felt!
Hope you weren't eating when you read this.
That is so funny! Poor you - which, rearranged, spells your poo!!!
Post a Comment