|There was this case in the hospital's Intensive care ward where patients always died in the same bed and on Sunday morning at 11 A.M., regardless of their medical condition. This puzzled the doctors and some even thought that it had something to do with the supernatural. No one could solve the mystery as to why the deaths took place at 11 AM.|
A worldwide expert team was constituted and they decided to go down to the ward to investigate the cause of the incidents. So on the next Sunday morning few minutes before 11 A.M., all doctors and nurses nervously waited outside the ward to see for themselves what the terrible phenomenon was all about.
Some were holding prayer books and other holy objects to ward off evil.
Just when the clock struck 11 Santa, the part-time Sunday sweeper, entered the ward and unplugged the life support system & plugged in the vacuum cleaner.
|Two drunk, Santa and Banta, were walking along a dirt road one day when they came upon a pile of some brown stuff on the ground.|
"Is that shit, Banta?" Santa said.
"I don't really know." Responded Banta as he bent over, "it smells like shit."
Santa leaned in and dipped his finger into the mysterious pile. "It feels like shit!"
Banta too dipped his finger into the mysterious pile and without hesitation shoved the finger in his mouth. "Sure tastes like shit, buddy! I think it's definitely shit."
"Hooooeee!" Responded Santa, "Good thing we didn’t step in it!"
|Santa walks into a bar and says, "Bartender, give me a shot of the strongest thing you've got."|
He takes the shot glass and knocks it back. He then asks for another one and knocks that on back, too. After about five or six of these the bartender decides that he's going to cut the guy off.
Bartender says to Santa, "Hey, what's wrong with you? Did you have a fight with your wife or something?"
Santa sighs and says, "Yeah, after the fight she said that she wasn't going to speak to me for a whole month!"
The bartender, puzzled, says, "Well, what's wrong with that?"
Santa replied, "Well today's the last day!"
|A man walking down the street came upon Santa and Banta who are trying to measure an up-right pole with a yard stick.|
Along comes this really big, musclebound shmuck and says, "Hey, what are you guys doing?"
Santa and Banta say, "We're trying to measure the height of this pole."
The man wraps his arms around the pole, pulls it out of the ground, lays it down and measures it. Then he picks it up, puts it back in the ground and says, "22 feets," and walks away.
Santa was now quite mad and yelled back, "You idiot we were not trying to see how long it was...I need to know how high it is!