A Man from Atlanta
A man from Atlanta moved to New York.

As he wandered the streets he stopped at an antique shop and decided to go in. On looking around he noticed a very strange looking bronze cat which had a tag on it saying, "Bronze Cat $30.00, Story $150.00".

The man was very curious and asked the salesman to explain.

"Well" said the man, "its just like it says, $30 for the cat and $150 for its story".

"I'll just take the cat," said the man.

"Very well, but you will be back," said the salesman.

The man left the shop with the cat in his pocket.

As he walked down the street he heard a strange mewing sound. On turning around he noticed there were a couple of cats following him.

The further he walked the more cats seemed to follow him. As he got to the Brooklyn Bridge he turned to see thousands of cats behind him.

"Screw this!" he said to himself and threw the bronze cat into the river. All the cats jumped into the river too and were drowned.

The man returned to the shop where he bought the cat.

"I knew you would be back. $150.00 for the story," said the salesman.

"Forget the story," said the man. "Have you got a bronze Mets fan?"

An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart