Q: Where does a king keep his armies?

A: In his sleevies!

John went to visit his old grandfather in a secluded area of Georgia. After chatting all night John's grandfather made a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. However, John noticed a film on his plate, and questioned his grandfather, "Are these plates clean?"

His grandfather replied, "They're as clean as cold water can get them. Just finish your meal!"

For lunch John worried that the plates had dried egg and asked, "Are you sure these plates are clean?"

The old man said, "I told you those dishes are as clean as cold water can get them. Now I don't want to hear any more about it!"

Later that afternoon, as John was leaving, his grandfather's dog started to growl, not letting him pass. John yelled, "Grandfather, your dog won't let me get to my car."

The old man shouted, "Coldwater, go lie down!"

A passing septic service truck declared "19,500 lbs. of very gross weight."

A propane supply store isn't shy about revealing where its heart lies: "Tank heaven for little grills."

Just after my father, who was a career Air Force NCO, passed away, all my brothers and sisters returned home to be with Mom. As we reminisced about my dad, we found ourselves floating from sorrow to laughter as we brought up fond memories of our nomadic military lifestyle. One morning we were discussing what music should be played at the funeral and several hymns were suggested. "But, Mom," my older sister said, "since Daddy was in the Air Force, shouldn't we request the Air Force song?"

"No, dear," my mother said with a smile. "We are not playing a song with the words 'Off we go into the wild blue yonder' at your father's funeral!"

When the Second Division set up shop in South Korea, it did so with its slogan proudly displayed at the front gate: "Second to None." A few months later, a South Korean base opened two miles down the road. The sign greeting visitors read "You are now entering the famed sector of the South Korean ROK Division, better known as 'The None Division.' "

Then you need a catchy logo:

Our local window tinters tell it like it is: "We stick it where the sun shines."

Who says companies only care about the bottom line? Ours is socially conscious and offers employees fun outdoor activities throughout the complex.

Both of these admirable elements were driven home one day when a voice over the loudspeaker boomed "Everyone who signed up to donate blood, please report to the rifle range!"

Service in the restaurant was abysmally slow. My husband was starting to flip out, so I tried to distract him with small talk.

"You know," I said, "our friend Christi should be having her baby anytime now."

"Really?" my husband snapped. "She wasn't even pregnant when we walked in here."

After inflating the playground balls, our school custodian, a classical music fanatic, had an odd habit of writing the names of famous composers on them. No one seemed particularly bothered by this behavior except for one parent volunteer.

"Can you believe this?" she said, thrusting a basketball under my nose. "Some kid wrote his name on all the balls!"

"Who was it?" I asked.

"Aaron Copland."

Problems with my laptop required calling the dreaded company help line. The service rep, based in another country, did not speak English very well. So I tried to explain it as simply as possible:

"I can't get the computer to work."

"Ah, I see," he responded. "You are unable to transport your computer to your place of employment."

My wife and I were having a very hypothetical discussion: In the unlikely event that Hollywood made a movie based on our lives, we wondered what stars would play us.

"Who would you pick to portray you?" she asked me.

I thought about it for a minute, then answered, "Dennis Quaid."

"In that case," she said, "I'll play myself."

One crazy day in our pediatric clinic saw me hand a young patient a urine sample container and tell him to fill it up in the bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned to my nurses station with an empty cup.

"I didn't need this after all," he said. "There was a toilet in there."

Spanish never came easily to my sister. Still, she did her best to communicate with the Spanish-speaking staff at the restaurant she managed. But when she made mistakes—and she made a lot—she'd apologize by saying, "Me estúpido."

Finally, a staffer took pity on her. "Susanna, you're not estúpido," she said, bucking up my sister's ego. "You are a woman," she continued. "So you are estúpida."

When I overheard one of my cashiers tell a customer, "We haven't had it for a while, and I doubt we'll be getting it soon," I quickly assured the customer that we would have whatever it was she wanted by next week. After she left, I read the cashier the riot act.

"Never tell the customer that we're out of anything. Tell them we'll have it next week," I instructed her. "Now, what did she want?"

"Rain."

A nurse friend of mine took a 104-year-old patient for a walk in the hospital corridor. When she got him back to his room and sat him down, he took a deep breath and announced, "That was great! I don't feel a day over 100!"

Freelance newspaper writers don't get nearly as much attention as writers with regular bylines. So I was delighted when I finally got some notice. It was at the bank, and I was depositing a stack of checks.

"Wow," said the teller, reading off the names of publishers from the tops of the checks. "You must deliver a lot of papers."

Sixteen years is a long time. That's how far the photo of my husband—looking slim and fit in his Marine Reserve uniform—goes back. Today, he's about 100 pounds heavier, so it was understandable when my friend's son asked who it was.

"That's my father," my daughter told him.

Looking at my husband, then at the photo, he asked, "Your first father?"

Most businesses like that our credit card machines automatically print "Thank you, please come again" at the bottom of receipts. Though one guy called to ask if I could take it off.

"Sure," I said. "But do you mind my asking why?"

"It just seems inappropriate," he answered. "We're a funeral home."

Halfway through dinner one night, our friend Jim told us of his days playing football in college as a defensive lineman.

"Did you play sports in college, Mike?" his wife then asked me.

"Yes," I answered.

"I was on West Point's shooting team."

"That's great," she said, appropriately impressed. "Offense or defense?"

What does a producer do?

The screenwriter, obviously, writes the screenplay.

The actors, of course, act in that screenplay.

And the director, without question, directs the whole thing.

But what does the producer do?

I will attempt to explain.

A film producer is the guy who, when a writer tells him about a good idea he's got for a screenplay, says, "That was done in 1938 by William Wyler. It costarred Fredric March and Loretta Young, with Claude Rains playing the black hat. But you know what? I think we could update it, if instead of making the leading lady a nun, we have her working in a casino in Nevada. We put George Clooney in the Fredric March role, and we make him an undercover agent for the CIA who has tracked a Russian agent to Las Vegas. Angelina Jolie would be great for the girl.

"They meet and fall in love, but he discovers that she's pregnant by the Russian agent. George has been licensed to kill this guy, who, incidentally, will be played by Jack Black, but Angelina begs George not to kill the father of her unborn child. In a tearstained scene at the Las Vegas airport, Angelina says goodbye to George and walks to the plane to join Jack Black for the trip back to Moscow. Our big ballad here. Maybe we get Elton John.

"George stops at the airport and pulls out a quarter-a quarter she gave him. He drops it in a slot machine. The place goes nuts-bells ringing and all that stuff. George has hit the $1 million jackpot! He collects his money in a single large suitcase. It's all in ones to make it more visual-this is a visual medium.

"He goes back to his hotel. He's still sick about losing Angelina. He takes the $1 million down to the hotel casino and puts the whole thing on No. 27, which was their number. We see the ball rolling around and around and around-endlessly, while the theme music, sung by Celine Dion, soars until every butt in every seat is up in the air. The ball drops into No. 29, then hiccups slightly and pops into 28, then, as Celine reaches a pitch so high that every dog within a mile of any movie house in America is howling with pain, the ball goes blip-and drops into 27."

When I went to a Christian school, I walked into the cafeteria and there on the table was a plate of fruit. Next to it was a sign that said "Take one. God is watching."

Next to the fruit was a plate of cookies, which had a sign next to it, written by a fellow student, that said "Take as many as you want. God is watching the fruit." 

An elderly couple had been shopping at a grocery store, and the wife decided to steal a can of peaches. The inevitable happened and she was caught. Upon her court date, the judge asked her what she had stolen.

"Your Honor, I stole a can of peaches."

The judge replied, "How many peaches were in the can?"

She said, "Six."

The judge then said, "I will sentence you to six days in jail."

Her husband stood up behind her and replied, "Your Honor, she also stole a can of peas."

Although desperate to find work, I passed on a job I found on an employment website. It was for a wastewater plant operator. Among the job requirements: "Must be able to swim."

Q. What did the Zero say to the Eight?