When the usher came by and noticed this, he whispered to the cowboy, "Sorry, sir, but you're only allowed one seat." The cowboy groaned but didn't budge.

The usher became more impatient. "Sir, if you don't get up from there, I'm going to have to call the manager." The cowboy just groaned.

The usher marched briskly back up the aisle. In a moment he returned with the manager. Together the two of them tried repeatedly to move the cowboy, but with no success. Finally, they summoned the police.

The cop surveyed the situation briefly then asked, "All right Buddy, what's you're name?"

"Sam," the cowboy moaned.

"Where ya from, Sam?"

The clerk looks at him and says, "Are you Polish?"

The guy, clearly offended, says, "Well, yes I am. But let me ask you something. If I had asked for Italian sausage would you ask me if I was Italian? Or if I had asked for German bratwurst, would you ask me if I was German? Or if I asked for a kosher hot dog would you ask me if I was Jewish?

Or if I had asked for a taco would you ask if I was Mexican? Would ya, huh? Would ya?"

The clerk says, "Well, no."

With deep self-righteous indignation, the guy says, "Well, all right then, why did you ask me if I'm Polish just because I ask for Polish sausage?"

The clerk replies, "Because this is Home Depot"

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. One little girl began, "My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the pick-up when we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs went flying and broke and made a mess."

"What's the moral of the story?" asked the teacher.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket"

"Very good," said the teacher.

Another little girl 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. The moral to this story is, "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

"That's a fine story," said the teacher.

A little boy at the back of the class is waving his arm wildly.

"Yes, do you have a story to share?" inquired the teacher.

"Yes ma'am, my daddy told me this story about my Aunt Maureen; Aunt Maureen was a flight engineer in Desert Storm and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. She drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then she landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. She killed seventy of them with the machine gun until she ran out of ammunition. Then she killed twenty more with the machete till the blade broke. And then she killed the last ten with her bare hands."

"Good heavens" said the horrified teacher, "what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"

"Stay the hell away from Aunt Maureen when she's been drinking."