Duck, Duck, Goose

Two cowboys rode into town after weeks out on the range. One cowboy said to the other, “Slim, first thing I’m gonna do is get myself a drink.”

The second cowboy said, “That sounds good, Tex, but the first thing I’m gonna do is go to Miss Carlyle’s and get myself some loving.”

“That do sound better,” agreed Tex. So they rode over toward Miss Carlyle’s. Before going into the swanky cathouse they decided that they ought to clean up a bit and they stopped at a horse trough, washed their faces and their boots and put on clean kerchiefs. Then they stood there for a moment staring at the entrance to the bordello, feeling suddenly shy.

“You know,” said Slim. “Maybe getting a drink first is the best idea.”

“Yup,” said Tex so they walked over toward the town saloon.

In through the swinging doors they went and both of them stopped and stared because behind the bar, polishing things up with a damp rag stuck to his wing stood a large duck. “What’ll it be, gents?” asked the duck.

“B-b-but…” said Tex. Then he took off his hat and hit himself in the face with it several times.

“You’re a duck!” said Slim, pointing, as if there might be some doubt as to which duck or which bartender he meant.

The duck sighed. “I get this a lot. Do you want something to drink, fellas?”

“Uh, uh, uh,” said Tex, coming over with a coughing fit.

“I’m sorry for us being so dumfuzzled but we’ve neither of us ever seen a duck tending bar before,” said Slim, pounding on his partner’s back to help him start breathing again.

The duck snorted. “I’ve never seen two cowboys without shit on their boots before either but I’m not going to get all choked up about it.”

Two old-fashioned nuns walked into the wrong church by mistake.

“I’ve never seen the inside of a Protestant church before,” said Sister Mary Theodora. “It’s different but kind of the same, too.”

“Is that a duck behind the podium?” asked Sister Mary Thomasina.

“They have pews and hymnals and stained glass windows, just like our home church,” said Sister Mary the first.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a duck giving a sermon before,” said Sister Mary the other.

Just then the duck noticed them at the back and asked his congregation to turn around and greet the visitors. The worshippers seemed very friendly and the nuns were persuaded to sit down and enjoy the rest of the service. Afterwards, they joined the line of people leaving the church to greet the pastor and shake his wing.

“I’ve never seen a duck in church before,” confessed Sister Marty Theodora. “It seems a bit unusual.”

“Well,” said the duck, “that’s because you’re Catholic. Most ducks are Baptists, of course.”

The Pope walked into a cowboy bar with a duck on his head.

“I’m -uh- sorry, Your Holiness,” said the cowboy at the door, “there’s a cover charge tonight.” As it happened the cowboys were having a social that evening to raise money for Planned Parenthood, just like the song says.[*]

It looked like a very awkward situation developing but the Pope just shrugged and turned to leave until the duck spoke up and asked, “How much is the cover charge?”

“T-ten dollars,” said the cowboy, surprised to be addressed by a duck. “It’s for charity.”

“All mein Geld ist in meinem anderen Hosen,” said the Pope.

“Tell you what,” said the duck. “I’m the Billionaire Bird, cousin of the Goose That Laid the Golden Egg. I’d like to make a large donation to your cause.”

“You would?” said the cowboy, very surprised.

“Yah,” said the duck. “But first you have to get the Pope off my ass.”

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