My grandmother got married in 1962, to a young man in the military. For a wedding present, their parents bought them a house in a nice suburb. White picket fence, whole 9 yards. Not long after they moved in, the next door neighbor planted a mullberry tree on the side of his property, near my grandparent’s driveway. Nothing seemed amiss, but if you know Mullberry Trees, you know that sh*t is about to get real.
About 15 years later, the mullberry tree was OBNOXIOUS. The birds would come and eat the berries, and any car parked in the driveway would get sh*t on, and it would stain the cars and ruin paint jobs. My grandmother, upon realizing the culprit, baked a nice apple pie, walked next door, and asked the neighbor if he’d mind trimming back the branches of the tree that hung over her driveway. He told her not to worry, he’d get to it soon. Three days later, my grandmother opened her door to find a half-eaten pie in the plate, crawling with ants, and a note that said “I changed my mind.”
My grandmother threw out the pie, cursing up a storm, and swearing up and down she’d get him to trim that tree or get him back. City ordinance said she could not trim the tree, as the roots were on his property, so the whole tree was his property.
As the years went by, my grandmother repeatedly asked him, ever so nicely, to trim it back. His responses were always along the lines of “No” and “F*ck off.” Finally, in the mid-90s, my grandmother retired, and received a large bonus from her employer for her 35 years of work. She took the money, and bought the empty lot on the other side of the neighbor, then went to a nursery and bought 16 mullberry trees, planting them along her property line, on both sides of his property. About 3 years ago, he became angry at the damage they were doing to his cars, and cut them all back without permission. My grandmother took him to court, and he was forced to reimburse her for the trees at a markup because they’d had 10 years to grow.
…. That is hardcore on a level I hardly knew existed.
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?”
The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound.
The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.
Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery.
The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier.
The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?”
The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.”
The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.”
The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.”
The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.”
The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?”
The monks give him the key, and he opens the door.
Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.
The man demands the key to the stone door.
The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby.
He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.
Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire.
So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.
Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.”
The man is relieved to no end.
He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.
But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk
the way i learned this, it was always told through spoken word. And you’d do the door thing for ages. AGES. literally just making up any old material. ‘behind the foam door is a door made of spinach’ that kind of shit. Go on until whoever is listening has already begged you to stop and has now gone on to pleading, clutching your shirt on their knees pleading. And when you finally said the last line? People went fucking nuts Like there was a good chance of just getting the teeth knocked out of you after telling that joke.
A friend of mine did that shit for 30 minutes on a camp once. The entire fucking bus just exploded in anger when she finished. It was a fucking massacre.
