For Peter Grant

A semi-shade-tree mechanic owned a dog named Mace. Mace was a basset, and a pretty good dog, although he had one major flaw, at least as far as the mechanic’s wife was concerned. Mace ate grass. Lots and lots of grass, to the point they had to reseed the yards at least twice. Enough was enough, and she ordered Mace to stay inside unless one of the kids walked him on a leash.

Now, the mechanic did most of his work in the back yard, near his shed. He didn’t bother with a lawn mower. The grass did pretty well over winter, and then really took off the next summer. But he had a lot of work, as did his wife, and the grass started to look more like a prize pasture.

One afternoon, as the mechanic was workin’ on a classic pick-up, he dropped a wrench. Now, this wouldn’t normally be a problem, except 1), this was a custom tool he’d had made because there was no other way to reach That Bolt unless he took the engine off the mounts, and 2) the grass was so high he couldn’t find the tool. He hunted for quite a while, then tossed his red rag into the toolbox and called it quits. And it was time to get cleaned up for the kids’ thing at school that night, anyway. The wrench wasn’t going anywhere.

Well, the pageant went well, no one muffed their lines or fell off stage, and the mechanic’s family came home happy. Alas, in the rush to get the little ones to bed, Mace slipped out the back door. You can imagine the delight the basset experienced as he found grass as tall as the top of his head.

Come the next morning, the mechanic looked out the back window and saw a very fat and sluggish dog, and a large swath of now clipped yard. Including the patch around where he worked. The mechanic went out to grab the dog before his wife woke up and pitched a fit. As he grabbed Mace’s collar, he saw a glint of sunlight on metal and lo and behold, there was his wrench!

With a cry of joy he turned his face to the heavens and proclaimed…

“Oh grazing Mace, how sweet the hound that found my wrench for me!”

 

NOTE: The owner and operator of the blog are NOT responsible for any shaggy-dog puns found in the comment section of this post.

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11 thoughts on “For Peter Grant

    • They are like CDs or chickens. You get one, you are probably going to end up with a few more just because. There’s something that seems to inspire[?] “Oh yeah? I can top that!” about shaggy-dog puns. (See below).

  1. Heh. You want shaggy dog stories? We got shaggy dog stories.

    A knight was on a quest through the countryside when his horse went lame. He wasn’t looking forward to camping out in the cold, but fortunately spied a small castle on top of a nearby hill. Leading his horse, he made his way to it, where he was greeted by the lady of the castle.

    “My lord husband is out hunting, but I know he would want me to accommodate a knight so splendiferous as yourself,” she said coyly, blinking enthusiastically at him. “Come within, and I shall have my servants stable your horse and see to your needs.”

    The knight duly did as she bid. After a lavish supper, where the wine flowed freely and both he and the lady imbibed without restraint, their mutual enthusiasm got the better of them, and they adjourned to her bedchamber.

    As they lay panting from their exertions, a sudden commotion rang through the castle. The lady sat up, clutching the bedsheets to her bosom. “It is my lord husband!” she exclaimed.

    Before the knight could remove himself, a large, fierce-looking man strode through the bedroom door. “So!” he thundered. “This is how you abuse my hospitality, sir guest!”

    “I – I – I’m terribly sorry, and all that sort of thing,” the knight stammered.

    “Enough! I shall keep your horse, your armor, your weapons, your clothes and all your goods, in recompense for the injury you have done me. I shall throw you out into the cold night, there to make your way naked, so that all may see your shame. Servants, seize him!”

    The servants did as they were bid, and dragged the protesting knight to the front door. As he looked out, shivering in the freezing air, he tried one last time. “But … I am a knight! You can’t make me walk! I must ride!”

    “You have a point,” the lord admitted. “A knight must ride. Therefore, I shall give you a suitable steed.” Turning to his seneschal, he thundered, “Bring out the rescue dog!”

    A few minutes later, a very large, very hairy dog was led to the door. It snuffled eagerly at the knight, who tried to shield his nether regions from its enthusiastic explorations. “Take this dog,” the lord proclaimed. “It will be your mount until you find something better, and will find its way back here when you release it.”

    The knight looked at the dog in horror, then pleaded with the lord, “But … but … surely you wouldn’t put a knight out on a dog like this?”

    πŸ™‚

  2. Not a dog, but a frog:

    Patty Black was a loan officer at the bank. One day Kermit Jagger came in to take out a loan. Kermit was young, had never taken out a loan before, and had no credit history. Ms. Black asked for collateral. Kermit put a small porcelain unicorn on her desk.

    Puzzled, Ms. Black took the unicorn to the bank president, explained the situation, and asked what she should do.

    The bank president replied, “It’s knick-knack, Patty Black. Give the frog a loan. His old man’s a Rolling Stone.

  3. A new school bus driver started his route on Sesame Street.
    At his first stop, a very large girl got on. The entire bus swayed when she did. She introduced herself as Patty, and he told her to take a seat.
    At the second stop, a girl even larger than the first one got on. She also introduced herself as Patty, and he told her to go sit down.
    At the third stop, the child was in a wheelchair and wearing a helmet. His mother introduced him, “This is Ross. He’s special.” After a bit of fussing with lift controls, they got Ross aboard and strapped down, and then the driver continued on his way.
    The next stop turned out to be a real dirtbag of a teenager. He said, “Hey man, my name is Lester Cheese” as he slimed his way up the steps. The driver told him to take a seat, and continued on his route.
    As he looked in the mirror, he saw that Lester had taken off his shoes, propped up his feet on the seat in front of him, and was picking at some of the gnarliest bunions the driver had ever seen. The driver started to yell at him, but halfway through, began to laugh uncontrollably, and wrecked the bus.

    As the ambulance hauled him away, he was still singing, “Two all beef Patties, special Ross, Lester Cheese pickin’ his bunions on a Sesame Street run.”

  4. One day, the environmentalists decided that extensive programs of geothermal modification were needed to mitigate the impact of a city’s heat island.

    They felt it needed to be done, they felt so hard, so much.

    Protests and terrorism didn’t get them anywhere, so they elected a few allies to congress. The congressmen funded studies, the journalists did their usual repetition without thought or understanding, and the environmentalists had more supporters. Eventually they were able to push it forward politically.

    The EPA’s new Office was funded, and Henderson, Nevada was selected as the first test site.

    The equipment, including a semi-custom horizontal drilling rig, was procured and the nation’s top experts on the process were flown in from Maryland.

    The operation was started, and progress seemed to be being made, until they started getting funny readings from the drill. They backed the drill off, removed it from the hole, cleaned off the debris, and sent it back down the hole. More problems, they bring in a drill mechanic, and have him replace parts.

    Send it back down the hole. More problems, and no matter how much the mechanic replaces parts, the thing refuses to operate continuously,

    The manager from the EPA is putting pressure on the Nevada Division of Environmental Protection, and one of the DEP’s engineers on the job is audited by the Nevada PELS board. PELS hires an investigator to see if any misconduct has occurred. He visits the site, looks at their books, and is mystified. He goes to a casino that night to drink his troubles away, and makes friends with an old oilfield hand in town to drink and gamble.

    The inspector manages to talk the hand into coming and seeing the situation to see if he has any insight.

    They have the drill pulled from the hole, ready for another round of mechanical repair. The hand takes a look at it and says a few words.

    “Bore needs cooling, and must be redesigned. The cooler you make it, the better it will run.”

    P.S. After looking at the extensive collection of warped and worn parts that the mechanic had removed, the hand shed a single tear.

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