The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day, the kids came back and, one by one, began to tell their stories.
Ashley said, “we live on a farm and I was collecting eggs from the hen house one day. I gathered the eggs and put then in my basket and set off running toward the house. While running I tripped over a rock and smashed all of the eggs.”
“What’s the moral of the story?” asked the teacher.
“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket!”
“Very good,” said the teacher.
Next little Sarah raised her hand and said, “Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market. We had a dozen eggs one time, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this story is, “don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”
“That was a fine story Sarah.
‘Janie, do you have a story to share?’
”Yes ma’am. My daddy told me a story about my Mommy. She was a Marine pilot in Desert Storm, and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory, and all she had was a flask of whiskey, a pistol, and a survival knife.
She drank the whiskey on the way down so the bottle wouldn’t break, and then her parachute landed her right in the middle of 20 Iraqi troops. She shot 15 of them with the pistol, until she ran out of bullets, killed four more with the knife, till the blade broke, and then she killed the last Iraqi with her bare hands.
”Good Heavens,’ said the horrified teacher. ‘What did your Daddy tell you was the moral to this horrible story?
“He said don’t mess with Mommy when she’s been drinking”