Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Thank You For Stopping, by Jack Handey

Thank you for stopping. You have obviously found me unconscious by the side of the road, or at a party, or possibly propped up against a wall someplace, and you have wisely reached into my pocket and found this medical advisory.
If you found the other things in my pockets, kindly do not read or keep them. They are none of your business and/or do not belong to you. And remember that, even though I am unconscious now, when I wake up I will remember the things I had.
If I am wearing a tie, please loosen it. But, again, do not take it off and keep it. It is not yours and is probably more expensive than you can afford. If I am not wearing a tie, look around at the other people who have gathered to look at me and see if any of them is wearing a tie that might belong to me. If so, please approach that individual and ask for my tie back. If he says it is his, say you do not think so. If he insists, give him one of the cards (in the same pocket where you found this note) of my attorney, and tell the person he will be hearing from him soon.
Keep me warm. Take off your coat and put it around me. Do not worry, you will get it back. If you do not, within thirty days contact the attorney on the card, and he will advise you.
If you must, build a fire to keep me warm. But—and this is very important—DO NOT ROAST ME OVER THE FIRE. I say this because many people who stop to help others are not that smart, and are capable of doing such a thing.
There are some pills in one of my pockets. Take them and hold on to them. If any authorities ask you about them, say they are yours.
If I am outdoors under a hot sun, do not allow children near me with a magnifying glass. Even if they are on leashes, do not allow monkeys near me. Do not allow others to make fun of me, poke me with sticks, or, if an anthill is nearby, pour honey on me. Do not allow onlookers to pose with me for “funny” photos. Failure to stop any of these things may be construed as participation in them, and may subject you to severe legal remedies.
Try to keep me calm. If you are not a physically attractive person, try not to let yourself be the first thing I see when I wake up.
Call an ambulance. I guess that would be obvious to most people, but you never know.
If I am on fire, put me out. If you put me out by rolling me on the ground, do not let me roll down a hill. If I do rolled own a hill and get stuck under some bushes, just leave me there; you’ve given me enough “help” already.
If I suddenly begin to sweat profusely and my entire body begins to shimmy violently, do not worry; that is normal.
If I am bleeding, how’d that happen? What did you do now?
Even though I am unconscious, do not dangle things over me. I do not like that.
Answer my cell phone if it rings. If it is a woman named Peggy, pretend to be me and say you are breaking up with her.
If I have wet my pants, get a glass of water and act like you tripped and spilled it on my pants.
If I appear near death, do not call a priest. And do not call a rabbi and a minister, and have them all go into a bar and do something funny, because I don’t want my life to end up as one big joke.
Get a better job. If you have time to stop for unconscious people, you are obviously not working at full capacity.
Thank you again for stopping. Now, please, stand back and give me some air.


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