The Talking Dog
A Southern boy goes off to college, but he only got about a third of the way through the semester before he has foolishly squandered what money his parents gave him.
Then he gets an idea. He calls his Redneck father. "Dad," he says, "you won't believe the wonders that modern education are coming up with! Why, they actually have a program here that will teach Fido how to talk!"
"That's absolutely amazing!" his father says. "How do I get him in that program?"
"Just send him down here with $1000," the boy says, "I'll get him into the course."
So, his father sends the dog and the $1000. About two-thirds of the way through the semester, the money runs out. The boy calls his father again.
"So how's Fido doing, son?" his father asks.
"Awesome, dad, he's talking up a storm," he says, "but you just won't believe this: they've had such good results with this program, that they've implemented a new one to teach the animals how to read!"
"Read!?" says his father, getting even more excited. "No kidding! What do I have to do to get him in that program?"
"Just send $2,500, and I'll get him in the class."
His father sends the money.
The boy has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out that the dog can neither talk nor read. So he shoots the dog.
When he gets home, his father is all excited. "Where's Fido? I just can't wait to see him talk and read something!"
"Dad," the boy says somberly, "I have some grim news. This morning, when I got out of the shower, Fido was in the living room kicking back in the recliner, reading the morning paper, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, 'So, is your daddy still messin' around with that little redhead who lives on Oak Street?' I was shocked."
The father says, "I hope you shot that lyin' son of a bitch!"
"I sure did, Dad!"
"That's my boy!"
Posted August 10, 2005