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In the depths of the countryside there lived a farmer who took care of baby animals.
The farm was very peaceful until one day the farmer's pig was murdered. Now the farmer took the incident very seriously, so he started an investigation. Unfortunately, the only witness the farmer had to this murder was his pet bunny rabbit.
Since the rabbit was unable to speak and tell him who murdered his little pig, the farmer lined up his four prime suspects, a cow, a horse, a goat, and a duck, and told the rabbit to pick out who had committed the dirty deed.
The rabbit hopped up and down the line, checking each animal, and then finally hopped forward three feet, and stopped in front of the goat.
"It wasn't me! It was't me!" yelled the goat.
The farmer shook his head and said, "The hare's looking at you, kid."
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In the days of primitive tribes and grass huts, there was one tribe which was very warlike. They won many battles, and took control of many other tribes.
One of their customs when they beat another tribe was to take the most prized posession of the enemy's chief.
One time, after a particularly fierce battle they defeated a rich tribe, whose king had a prized solid gold throne.
Our warlike tribe took the throne, and put it in the loft in their cheif's house. Unfortunately, the throne was much too heavy to be kept in a loft in a grass house, and it fell right through the ceiling, onto the cheif, killing him instantly.
The Moral of this story is...... People who live in Grass Houses shouldn't stow thrones!
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All the monks in a certain monastery sing the simple word "Morning!" from their windows each sunrise.
Early one day after several "Morning!" greetings have been sung melodiously into the dawn air, a single greeting of "Evening!" rings out of one window.
In the courtyard below, Brother Timothy looks around startled, and says "Did you hear that, Brother Edward?"
"Hear what, Brother Timothy?" replied Brother Edward.
Brother Timothy sang in reply: "Someone chanted evening..."

Two friends were big game hunters. Every once and awhile, they'd get together and admire the other's recent trophy.

One evening, Lou sees that Fred has a small bird's head mounted and hung on his trophy wall.

"You gotta be kidding! A small bird? C'mon, that's a joke, isn't it?", asks Lou.

"Don't put down that bird, Lou. That is the Foo Bird. THE most dangerous animal I have ever hunted. Many have gone crazy trying to hunt one!!", says Fred

Not to be out done, Lou immediately goes to Africa to organize a hunt. In every village he goes looking for porters to carry his gear, the mere mention of the Foo Bird sends the natives into a frenzy. None will sign on to hunt with him. Finally, after many tries and bribes, he does find a tribe who will guide his hunt. And off they go, into the jungle, looking for the Foo Bird.

They come into a clearing and there, as on Fred's wall, is a whole flock of Foo's. The tribal chief grabs Lou and tells him to run for his life. His tribe scatters. But Lou wants his trophy, not to be out done by Fred. He aims his gun but the noise from the tribe scares the Foos. They take flight. One starts to dive bomb Lou. He swats it away but it comes back and poops on his head. Lou takes a shot but misses. He tries to wipe the poop off his forehead and it doesn't come off. He aims again and the poop is getting in his eyes. He tries to wipe it off again and still it does not come off.

Finally, he gives up. But with out the natives, he is lost in the jungle. Wandering around, lost, he continues to wipe the Foo poop with no success. Without food, water and being driven mad with the Foo poop, he staggers into a village finally, but totally insane. Covered in Foo Poop, never to hunt again.

Moral of this story? If the Foo sh*ts, wear it !