Home > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

I headed down for breakfast at the Murray.

I was hungover to hell.

Tibbs was in there– a splattered tan apron around his ample belly. He smelled like beer.

“GOOD MORNING, MR. OAKES!” He started laughing hysterically, even ended up bent over at the waist. Who could make anything of any of it?

“Morning Tibbs. Let’s have biscuits and gravy and a cup of that mud you’ve been peddling as coffee.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA, OH, WHAT A DELIGHT! WHAT AN AMAZING DELIGHT YOU ARE, MR. OAKES!”

My temples throbbed.

I read an old local paper somebody had left in the booth. There was an article in there about some donkeys that had pulled a cart up a hill. The writer went on and on and on about it. Took up 3/4 a page. They had quotes and everything. There weren’t no merit to it.

Tibbs came back. The joy on his face had disappeared. There was a shadow over him.

“Mr. Oakes– have you ever slept with faith and awoke with a corpse in your arms?”

I just sat there. What could you do? He leaned in closer.

“YOUR BREAKFAST WILL BE OUT MOMENTARILY, MR. OATES! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHAT A DELIGHTFUL MORNING!”

He bolted over to the counter and deposited a basket of rye toast into a nearby booth. There wasn’t anybody sitting there.

I kept up with the paper. The towels-by-the-pound lady had taken out a little ad. There was a pennant that went across the bottom. It said: “Ask for Dick Oakes, Head Salesman.”

“Chrissakes,” I said aloud.s-l1600

“That’s right, Mr. Oates,” Tibbs said. I jumped a bit. He was right behind me. I hadn’t heard a thing.

“That’s right, Mr. Oates. Flames will burn up all the trees of the fields; even the animals will pant for you.”

I was starting to figure on some kind of a jackpot but Tibbs was blocking me in. I didn’t know where the hell to go.

“You read about this donkey, Tibbs?” I finally countered.

“OH YES! YES, YES, YES, YES, YES, and YES, MR. OAKES. WHAT A DELIGHT!”

Some more rye toast appeared on the counter. Tibbs brought it over to me and then bolted outside.

I could hear him out there.

“ALL YOU RAVENOUS CUNTS! YOU WANT A LITTLE TIBBS IN YOUR BASKET DON’T YOU? I’LL FIGHT ANYBODY.”

He nattered on insanely until finally a couple of detectives plowed up onto the curb and took him away.

I never did get my biscuits.

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