ONLY IN AMERICA:
Wanting to work from the comfort of his own home, a man pushed his motorcycle into his living room, where he began to clean the engine with some rags and a bowl of petrol. When he finished, he jumped on and decided to fire-it-up to make sure everything was okay. Unfortunately, the bike started in gear, and crashed through the glass patio door … with him still clinging to the handlebars.
His wife came running in at the fearful sound, and found him crumpled on the patio, badly cut from the shards of broken glass. She called 911, and the paramedics carried the unfortunate man to the Emergency Room.
Many stitches later, his wife brought him home that afternoon and put him to bed. She cleaned up the mess in the living room, and dumped the bowl of petrol in the toilet.
A while later her husband woke up, lit a cigarette, and went into the bathroom for some much-needed relief. He sat down and dropped the cigarette into the toilet, which promptly exploded, blowing him through the bathroom door.
Hearing the loud explosion and the terrible screams from her husband, his wife ran into the hall and found her husband lying on the floor with his trousers blown off, and burns to his buttocks. She again ran to the phone and called for an ambulance.
The same two paramedics were dispatched to the scene. They loaded the husband on the stretcher and began carrying him to the street. One of them asked the wife how the injury had occurred. When she told them, they began laughing so hard that they dropped the stretcher, and broke the guy’s collarbone …
A highly timid little man ventured into a biker bar in a tough part of town and, clearing his throat, asked, “Um, err, which of you gentlemen owns the Doberman tied outside to the parking meter?”
A giant of a man, wearing biker leathers with body hair growing out through the seams, turned slowly on his stool, looked down at the quivering little man, and said, “It’s my dog. Why?”
“Well,” squeaked the little man, obviously very nervous. “I believe my dog just killed it, sir.”
“What?” roared the big man in disbelief. “What kind of monster dog do you have?”
“Sir,” answered the little man, “It’s a four-week-old puppy.”
“Bull!” roared the biker, “How could your puppy kill my Doberman?”
“It appears that he choked on it, sir.”