Once there lived a wise man.
He was wise, no denying it because if the author said so, it must be true. That’s the rule, you take his word for it.
He was wise, wiser than any of you. Believe it!
So, one night the wise man was sitting in a pub.
Now, why would a wise man do that. There must be a very deep, very thought provoking, very attention worthy, very mystic reason behind it. I mean, wise men don’t just sit in pubs.
He was there to eat …
What?! He was, he actually was?!!
Not your average wise man, is he? But we’ll humor him for now …
He told a joke.
Seriously? Are you friggin’ kiddin’ me? I let the pub one pass, but this is just rubbish. He told a joke!. Was there no philosophies left in the world to ponder on. no brilliant plans for the greater good, no theories about Justin Bieber’s gender. No? Nothing?
OK, I’ll let this one slide too. Go ahead. Knock yourself out.
What were they supposed to do? Roll over and die?
Come to think of it, I’m feeling like that right now, so that’s not such a long shot.
When they laughter died out, he told the joke again.
Keen to spread a few smiles around, huh? Well, good for you wise man. Good for you. When are you gonna hang yourself?
Soon? I thought so…
Few people laughed.
Were they laughing at the wise man, or were they just stupid?
The wise man told the joke for the third time. Much to the disapproval of the crowd. Not a single laugh was heard.
Were there swords involved? Daggers? Artillery? Anything?!!
Come on! my hands are getting itchy just thinking about it.
The wise man said,”When you can’t laugh at a joke again and again, why oh, why do you cry at the same sorrow over and over again?”
Well, what do you know. The wise man’s wisdom finally came through. now all that’s left is to show the guy some real pain. Let him contemplate some sorrow for himself. Let him show us how to deal with sorrow.
Folks, are you ready?
Knives, on my mark.
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