A Kid, a Puppy, and a Pointless Story

I was looking over my blog and thought I might go ahead and update you about the dog situation. Quick recap: Excited puppy too much for 11-year-old girl to cope with.

When my sister calmed down, she decided to have a puppy/kid training lesson, and it was a success. The puppy got treats for keeping her paws on the floor instead of jumping, and since it was a specific lesson with specific instructions, my daughter concentrated and obeyed. By the end, she was able to walk across the room without squealing, the puppy was able to follow her without jumping, and she could feed the puppy a treat from her bare hand, though she tended to drop it more often than not.

Another success began with a recent question: How come nobody ever takes me to the movies?

The answer, of course, is: one time, you went to the movies with grandpa and ran out crying during a preview for Coraline. He didn't catch you until you were outside, and you were maybe seven years old. You then began refusing to go into movie theaters.

That's not what I said, though. I said, "Why, do you want to go to the movies?" She did, so we went, and it was a normal movie experience. Since this is all rather anticlimactic, here's a cheese factory story:

One time, at the cheese factory, a coworker told us that he'd heard a completely pointless story once, and it had inspired him to learn to tell completely pointless stories. Here is his story:

He was under the influence of a mind-altering substance and had locked himself out of his apartment. Since he was locked out, he went for a walk. He realized at some point that he wasn't at all sober and he'd wandered into a very bad neighborhood. He was lost and very possibly in danger, so he called the cops on himself. They took him in and locked him up.

An older man there who was very friendly asked him, "Do you like boys, or girls?"

That was pretty much the end of the story. We all looked at each other in confusion. A story like that had to have an ending, didn't it? No, apparently it didn't.

"Well, did you get back into your apartment?"

Yes.

"How?!"

Oh, I'd left the window unlocked. I climbed through.

Mr. Former-Coworker, if you ever read this, thank you. I've told that story so many times, and the looks it gets me are priceless.