As has become tradition here at Stilton's Place over the years, we're taking a break from the news to present a heartwarming Father's Day offering: two inspirational children's stories written long, long ago by Stilton's father. Which explains a lot...
I get a sense the fact that Stilton's Dad did not like his critics "harping on" his work.
There once was a guy named Juan.
Juan was a really nice guy....didn't beat his wife, didn't beat his kids, didn't beat the aardvark in the backyard.
Juan lived in a small country in South America.
Juan lived a simple life, and was simply happy.
One day, Juan was sitting in a coffeeshop with a few friends, when the topic of the election for mayor came up.
One of his friends said 'Hey Juan, why don't you run? You're a really great guy!'
Juan smiled and thanked his friends for their kindness, but they were persistant, as they should be...
he was a great candidate and a great guy; he didn't beat his wife, or his kids, or the aardvark in the backyard.
Juan reluctantly agreed, and posted a few signs out to announce his candidacy; he thought of it as kinda a joke
Well, as it turned out, when word got around that Juan was running, his popularity grew fast.
'Wow, Juan is running?'
'What a great guy!'
'I heard he doesn't beat his wife, or his kids!'
'Yeah, nor the aardvark in the backyard!'
Well, to nobodies surprise (except Juan), he won by a landslide and was sworn into office with a very surprised look on his face.
Well, he saw that there was do getting out of it, so he decided to do his best.
And his best was quite good.
The town prospered like it never had before.
The crime for the year consisted of someone dropping a lollipop stick on the sidewalk.
Juan spent 6% of the budget, and donated the rest to the Dum Fiters Relief Fund.
The townspeople were ecstatic, and his performance turned a lot of heads.
Everyone in the town was thrilled with Juan as mayor; he didn't beat his wife, or his kids, or the aardvark in the backyard.
Well, at the end of the year, with his term almost up, Juan was pretty pooped.
As Juan sat in the coffeeshop with his friends, reflecting on the year,
one suggested that, despite the town's success, the province was in some financial trouble.
'Heck, with Juan's record, he should be governor!' another smiled.
Juan wondered why everyone's eyes lit up suddenly.
Within hours the campaign was on.
All the ads and posters had the same theme:
'Vote for Juan! He doesn't beat his wife, or his kids, or the aardvark in the backyard!'
When election day came, there was no doubt about the winner;
Juan had been in the lead since the week he had entered.
Governer Juan sat back in his padded chair and went to work once again.
His record was brilliant for the two years he spent as governor.
The crime rate fell by 2/3, the budget was balanced, education rose sharply, and
the province's Soccer Team sold out every game that Juan attended (he was a big Soccer Buff).
The whole country was now buzzing with Juan;s work.
Everyone commented how he was such a great guy, how he didn't beat his wife, how he didn't beat his kids, and how he didn't beat the aardvark in the backyard.
Then the President was shot.
This meant that they needed a new president.
Normally, they would turn to the vice-president, except for the fact in this case was that the vice-president was the murderer.
The Governors got together to decide on a new President for the remaining three years of the term.
Each one walked into the room with a mailsack full of letters, all of which has similar messages:
'Juan for President!'
'Let Juan preside as President!'
'How can you not select Juan? He doesn't beat his wife, doesn't beat his kids, and doesn't beat the aardvark in the backyard? What else do you want?'
To make a very long story not quite as long, Juan was quickly named president, and the country was glad he did.
The country prospered; new trade agreements were made, old disputes were settled, and there was peace throughout the country.
Juan was a national hero.
One day Juan came home from work exhausted.
He put his briefcase down and plopped down in his easy chair.
His mind was racing, but he was exhausted.
He couldn't concentrate...
pressure from everyone...
lobbyists want this...
governors want that....
everyone wants this and that and acccccckkkkk!!!!!!
Juan looked out the window into the backyard.
As usual, the aardvark was out there slurping up ants.
The monotonous repetition snapped something in Juan's mind.
A sudden rage built up inside of him, something evil and uncontrollable.
Unfortunatelty for Juan, his neighbour heard the CRACKs and quickly moved the telescope from Juan's upstairs window, where his daughter was undressing, down to the yard, and witnessed the brutal attack.
He immediately phoned the police, and within hours, Juan was behind bars, the aardvark rushed to the hospital, and the telescope back up to the upstairs window.
The country was horrified, and the citizens called for nothing less than the usual penalty given out for this type of crime....death by firing squad.
It was granted, and the punishment was to be carried out swiftly.
Juan stood there, broken and insane.
The firing squad levied their guns at him. 'Ready.......' 'Aim.........' 'F'
Suddenly, and without warning, the aardvark leapt from the shadows, aimed at Juan and fired a golf gun.
The shot boomed throughout the town, and the shot itself went clear through Juan's heart and out his back.
Golf gun? Golf gun?
You may be asking yourself what a golf gun is?
The answer...well, I don't know. But it sure made a hole-in-Juan.
Mr. Stilton, senior would win our family's non sequitur game hands down.
Happy father's day!
Yeah Stilt, that apple didn’t go far from your family tree. 😁
So did selling the occasional few hits of Pop’s windowpane to your buds help with the gas money fund as you made your way through high school?
I have often wondered how Stilton developed his somewhat jaundiced world views; however, a rose is a thing of beauty!
I am so ashamed I used my valuable time to read all of that story, and a little ashamed I copied it and sent to my friends (blaming it all on you of course)!
Stilton. What a inheritance. And then, you received a large dose of that legacy.
Just Wow! my friend.
What a great tribute to your Dad and his obviously wicked sense of humor. Bravo!
@M. Mitchell Marmel: A young woman became pregnant while she was still in High School. She didn't believe in abortion, knew she couldn't raise two kids (she was having twins) while still in High School, so she decided to put her twins up for an open adoption. After giving birth to identical twin boys, one of them was adopted by an Egyptian couple who named him Amal; the other identical twin boy was adopted by a Spanish couple who named him Juan. About 15 years later she got a letter(including a picture of Juan) from Juan thanking her for birthing him and telling her his adoptive parents were wonderful. She was pleased to get the letter from Juan, but couldn't help wondering about Juan's identical twin Amal. This bothered her so she went to her priest and told her story, wishing she also had a picture of Amal. Well, the priest said, "You know they are identical twins, so, if you have seen Juan, you have seen Amal." (This may qualify as a "dad joke"?)
A Mexican Firefighter had twins.
He named one Hose A.
The other he named Hose B.
(ANOTHER Dad joke!)
I'm not sure why, but I was expecting a completely different ending to the airplane story. Both of these stories were really durn good! I would have gotten along really well with your father, I think.
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