After reading the sign NO LION TAMERS ALLOWED, the lion tamer walked in the chicken coop. To his surprise he found his boss licking stamps behind a nice pulpit. "What are you doing here?" asked his boss, Mrs. Nurchkamibitz.
Because Zamer, the lion tamer, did not expect his boss to be in the chicken coop, he could not think of answer. This lead him to spurt out an uneducated response, "The vacuum machine was on fire water."
Mrs. Nurchkamibitz lurched at the ignorant lion tamer. "You fool! Think before you speak. Obviously, you came in here because the sign forbids any lion tamers. Curiosity brought you in here."
Zamer smiled with partial chagrin, "Being a lion tamer, I always follow curiosity, because curiosity killed the cat."
His retort was answered with a slap in the chest. "You blurry-eyed freak! Lion tamers tame lions not kill cats; get it straight." She continued licking her stamps. With no lust in mind, Zamer stared at his boss.
"Throw the eggs away, Zamer!" sneered Mrs. Nurchkamibitz. "They're getting a bit rotten." After completing the reasonable sentence, she pinched her nose.
Looking around the coop, Zamer noticed that all the chickens were dead in their nests. After picking one up, he found no eggs under the hen cadaver. "Chief," he thought he said, which he did, "There are no eggs, only dead chickens."
"Did you call me chief?" asked the prune-faced woman before swallowing an illegal stamp.
"I think I did," whined one-eared Zamer. He received the second meanest stare ever recorded in the NO LION TAMERS ALLOWED chicken coop. The first meanest stare was when Dwight D. Eisenhower was still in his diapers, and then some. That, my droogs, was a very long time ago, and then some.
"My name is not your name therefore I am," smirked chief Nurchkamibitz before sticking her tongue out of her eyes.
"I can tell these dead hens are making you woozy," cringed Zamer. "Let me throw them out for you."
Five hours later, Zamer finally got the nerve to garner the pungent, putrescent hens. Once he did, he stepped out of the coop and threw them into the Arctic Ocean. "Gadzooks!" exclaimed the highly sensitive Zamer as he found himself on an iceberg labeled NO LIBRARIANS ALLOWED.
After waving to some penguins across the way, a scuba diver emerged from the icy water onto the lion tamer's iceberg. "Who are you?" asked the diver after taking off her mask revealing her brick face.
"Who are you?" answered Zamer annoyed by her brick face.
"I'm Miss Shusgin," she replied waiting for a positive expression on Zamer's natural face. No expression was positive, so she continued, "Haven't you heard of me? I'm the world's most renowned librarian."
The lion tamer moved out of the way to reveal the sign to Miss Shusgin. "I'm Zamer, a lion tamer, and you're not allowed here."
"Look who's talking!" she clamored. "You're the one who went into that chicken coop when lion tamers were not allowed there." She began to undress in front of the immature lion tamer. Her entire body was composed of bricks.
"How do you know about me?" he asked in dismay.
"There's a book about you, Zamer, it's on the best-seller list right now," she smiled. She took one of her body bricks out, turned it into a book, and gave it to Zamer. "Here it is."
Taking it, he twitched at the book cover. Entitled Bagpipes for Horseshoes, the book showed a picture of Dwight D. Eisenhower playing Twister with Ricki Lake. "What is this?" he scoffed throwing the literature in the arctic depths.
"Hey!" she scowled. "I paid a lot for that book. I was going to have you autograph it for me."
In response, Zamer picked up the NO LIBRARIANS ALLOWED sign and pushed it against the bricks of Miss Shusgin. In an instant, she plunged into the sea. "Freak!" he screamed into the water.
Looking across the way, he saw the penguins pointing to something behind him. When he turned around he found himself sinking in a swamp with a sign reading NO FISHMONGERS ALLOWED. After he pulled himself out of the oozing sludge, he saw a little girl hanging from a cypress tree. "What are you doing here, missy?" he simpered.
"I came here to hang on these fine cypress trees." She did a flip in midair and landed in front of the lion tamer. "This is my favorite place to hang out, you might say."
Zamer soon was repulsed by her yellow eyes and skin. Backing away from her, he introduced himself, "My name is Zamer. I'm a lion tamer for Nurchkamibitz Carnival."
She extended her hand waiting to be shook by Zamer. "I am Pamela, a fishmonger suffering from jaundice."
Refusing to shake her hand, the lion tamer pointed out the NO FISHMONGERS ALLOWED sign. "Did you see that sign?"
"Oh," she snubbed. "That sign has been up for eons. It only gets repainted every other month to make it look new. I think that sign comes without a penalty. Why would they want no fishmongers allowed? It's quite silly, I say."
"It's like saying no lion tamers are allowed in a chicken coop," chuckled Zamer as he tried to find a toothpick.
"No, I'm afraid that's completely different, Sir James," she said finding a saber under a walking stick.
"Will this do for a toothpick?"
"Thank you," he replied. Suddenly a forlorn gesture planted on his face. "My name is Zamer and how did you know I wanted a toothpick?" he inquired whilst picking his teeth.
"You were looking for one, weren't you?" she rhetorically demanded. In less than a flash, a giant tube of toilet paper fell from the sky around the jaundice-stricken fishmonger.
"Oh God!" he cussed finding himself in heaven. Surrounded by fog and angels, Zamer was in the midst of God and sign that read NO TIME TRAVELERS ALLOWED.
With an enraged stare, the Supreme Being asked the lion tamer one simple question, "Zamer, son of Ryan, son of Gus, when did you get here?"
Zamer scratched his head and responded, "Oh, just a few seconds ago, Almighty One."
"Time traveller!" he shouted. "To hell you must go!" God's echo sent the lion tamer through the chasm towards the inferno.
Zamer, the lion tamer, was greeted by Satan and a sign that read NO FIREFIGHTERS ALLOWED. Zamer thought about telling Beelzebub he was a fire fighter, but then the devil spoke, "So...Zamer, you were going to lie. I would have liked you to do that more often on Earth, but I won't tolerate any lying in hell, you lion tamer!"
After a puff of fiery smoke, a spade appeared in Zamer's hands. "Start digging!" the evil one shouted pointing to the ground.
"What am I digging for?" Zamer requested.
"Satan doesn't give out answers for free," grinned the green-bearded worm, "And if you have the correct payment, you won't be lucky if I give you the right answer."
"What's the correct payment?" Zamer beseeched.
Lucifer blew steam out of his snout, "Dig, Zamer!"
At the first stroke at the loam, the lion tamer sprung a leak. "Is it oil?" he asked himself hopefully. Soon his face turned sour, "Oil in hell would not be pleasant."
"You got that right," snickered another demon.
At the second stroke into the fervent dirt, water sprung straight out. "I think I hit a water pipe!" announced Zamer.
"What?" barked the fiend. "There are no water pipes in hell."
"Maybe you forgot to take them out when you moved in," grinned the wisecracking lion tamer.
In a matter of minutes, the eternal inferno turned into a relaxing sauna. When the moisture punctured the serpent's eyes, he blared, "Damn you, Zamer!"
"I'm one step ahead of you, big bad guy," snickered the lion tamer getting the last laugh in the netherworld.
"Bless you, Zamer!" shouted the infuriated fury.
The NO TIME TRAVELLERS ALLOWED sign once again stood in front of the lion tamer. "The sign remains the same," God lamented. "If Satan doesn't want you, I sure the hell don't. Go back to where you came from!"
In an instant, Zamer found himself outside on the farm where a sign read NO LION TAMERS ALLOWED in front of a chicken coop. Unexpectedly, the sign burst into flames.
A mile away, a renegade from the law stepped into a bowl of soup and entered a whole new world of chicken stock, but that's a whole different ball game.
Speaking of ball games, a champion chess-player threw the first pitch at a minor league game. Instead of a strike, the batter got a checkmate.
After that horrible joke, the flying shoe soon met its fate as it ran into the bubble-gum web spun by ancient Greek spiders. The bubble-gum web soon gave way to the flock of roller-coaster balloons dressed up like ballerinas in Viking attire. The avocado man finally ate his chives in broad daylight triggering Superman to wet himself.
Where is this story going? Out the backdoor perhaps? No, a totally wrong guess; rugby for licorice.
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