In preparation for Friday funnies, I thought I would share my take on the modern knock knock joke. I’m sure I made some up when I was a kid, but not a few in a row and with a LaLa twist. Plus, this way I don’t have to worry about remembering the punch lines.
…Okay, the honest truth is that my new thing today was supposed to be going to the screening of Dr. Jane Goodall‘s new documentary “Jane’s Journey” tonight at the new Bloor Hot Docs Cinema, hosted by the ever dashing George Stroumboulopoulos. Jane is actually going to be there in person, and so I was super duper excited to see and potentially meet this amazing chimp woman idol of mine in person. Once again, though, my memory failed to remind me that I was already booked at another non-new event at that time, and so my brother graciously accepted to go in my place. When he inquired about the dress code, I simply replied, ‘one step up from the Trailer Park Boys will be fine. Look employed.’
Which brings me back to the knock knock jokes. So I’m sitting in my house chatting with a friend of mine when I hear a couple of knocks at the door. “Who’s there?”, I ask. “Gunter glieben glauchen globen”. Yay! It must be Def Leppard here on my doorstep to do an impromptu rendition of Rock of Ages. Excellent! I swing the door wide open, and, much to my horror, I find the Swedish Chef. I slam the door shut. (It’s okay, Muppets don’t actually have feelings, despite what you may have learned growing up).
A few minutes go by, I top up our wine glasses, and as I’m reaching for a snack, I hear another couple of knocks on the door. “Who’s there?”, I yell. “Gerard?” comes the reply, in a smouldering voice. I bolt to the front door, knocking my friend out of my way. “If that’s Gerard Butler on the other side of that door, he’s all mine, beyotch!”. I think it’s the Scottish brogue that makes me go weak at the knees, hard to say. I fling myself into the arms of the person standing on the other side of the door, who happens to be a yard maintenance guy in a wife-beater, wielding a large pair of garden sheers. He seems surprised. Then, he clears his throat a bit, and says, “Uh, chyer yard could use some work, yes?”. I disentangle myself, politely reply “Not today, thank you”, and return to my wine. My friend just snickers and says nothing, smart girl that she is. (PS. I’ve made said gardener much hotter and taken the wife-beater off in the above photo with my x-ray imagination).
A few more minutes go by, and again we hear two quick knocks at the door, because, you know, this is prime time and a very popular neighbourhood for random door-knockers. “Who’s there this time?”. A soft voice croons out, “Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?” I open the door. Oh, for gawd’s sake, it’s Lionel Richie.
“No, it isn’t you I’m looking for, but if you see Gerard Butler, could you send him my way? Thanks. Oh, and by the way, could you take down your posters? The eighties are over.” And I close the door.
Thank you, thank you very much, I’m here all year.
If you’re still hankering for a really good knock knock story, this is the one that still makes me laugh until I snort every time. Enjoy, and if by any chance you are coming up on your 15th wedding anniversary, remember: 15 years is big metal chickens!