An Evening on the Fireside

An Evening on the Fireside with David 48

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to a new, integrated blog segment, The Inter-Postal Hack (TIPH)
I will scour the interwebs for some source of amusement to illuminate the human condition (really just a joke), and post it for all of your enlightenment. For I know all of you work tirelessly in your expedition for knowledge and news. So here is the first, replacing this week’s Evening on the Fireside

Alright, so this is my version of the joke. .Following it, will be the version from the interwebs.
A man was flying over the Chinese borders, contracted by the government to well… I could tell you, but then I would have to end you. Anyways, this man’s plane went down in the forest, crashing and leaving him stranded in a foreign land. He wandered for days, weeks, surviving on bugs sand berries.

One day he came across a small stream and followed it down to a two-story shambles on its banks. Tears started welling in his eyes as he accepted the beauty before him. Stressed legs ran to the home and cut and scratched hands pounded on the door.

An ancient Chinese man with a grey beard that ran the length of his torso opened the door and looked at him.

“Uh, English?” the lost man pleaded.

The wrinkled man nodded and repeated, “English.”

“Please, my plane crashed and I’ve been lost in the woods for weeks. Can you spare a room and maybe directions to a village or town nearby.”

The Chinese man stepped back into his house with a bow as his arm showed inside of the room. “Certainly. I shall feed you and draw you a map for the morning.”

The American slid into the home, hands together and bowing repeatedly. “Thank you so much. I am eternally grateful.”

The Chinese man squeaked and scraped the door close as he said, “There is only one thing.”

The lost man looked through blurred eyes and listened.

“If you so much as lay a finger on my daughter I will inflict upon you the three worst Chinese tortures known to man.”

The American thought for a moment how old the man’s daughter would be, but dismissed the thought upon the food that awaited him now, and once he found a Micky D’s. “Yes, yes, anything you wish.”

“Now, go wash in the stream while my daughter and I prepare the food.”

The man again bowed and made his way out of the house and to the water. Upon washing, he returned to the smell of roasted animals.

The table was filled with a dozen bits of food, but the American couldn’t stop leering at the old man’s (supposed) daughter. She was the most ravishing thing he had ever seen. Anemic blood sank and centered.

The old man helped the American to his seat and whispered, “Three worst Chinese tortures.”

The American nodded and the three began eating the myriad of foods, the daughter eyeing him from time to time before quickly snapping back to her food.

As they finished, the American offered to help clean, but the old man brushed him up the stairs to rest. He left him with, “You sleep in my bed. I make map for you.”

The American bowed one last time and said, “Thank you both so much. I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay your kindness.”

“Just remember,” the old man said, “You will know unbearable pain if you lay with my daughter.”

The two separated and the American laid awake, thinking of the man’s daughter, running through fantasy after fantasy. Finally, with a groan, he snuck out of his room and found the daughter, lying on her bed, stripped of her clothes. A seductive smile later, and he was already of his clothes, clearing the room in only three steps.

They remained wrapped in passion until neither could move. As soon as he managed enough energy to get up, he limped back to his one-night bed. If he could have mustered a smile, he would have fallen asleep with one plastered on his face.

He began blinking to the sunlight and a pressure on his chest. Looking through the pain of morning sun, he saw the rock on his chest. On it, a note was posted that read:

Chinese Torture 1: Hundred pound rock on chest

He grabbed the rock as he thought, “Well, this isn’t that bad.” He grunted as he sat up, thinking, “Not really unbearable pain.” He picked the boulder up and walked it to the glassless window. He took a breath in, before heaving the rock out.

Half out of the window, the man noticed another note posted in the window that read:

Chinese Torture 2: Left testicle tied to Rock

With a choked throat, he managed to force his head down, to a rope running tight and leading out of the window. “Broken bones or a balless one,” ran through his head just before he leapt through the window.

Falling through the morning air, hands wrapped securely around a rope, no two ropes. He looked at the grass below him and saw the last of three Chinese Tortures.

Chinese Torture 3: Right testicle tied to bed post

And the internet version

A young man is wandering, lost, in a forest when he comes upon a small house. He knocks on the door and is greeted by an old Chinese man with a long grey beard. “I’m lost,” said the man, “Can you put me up for the night?”
“Certainly,” the Chinese man said, “but one condition. If you so much as lay a finger on my daughter I will inflict upon you the three worst Chinese tortures known to man.”
“OK,” said the man, thinking that the daughter must be pretty old as well, and entered the house.
Over dinner the daughter came down the stairs. She was young, beautiful and had a fantastic body. She was obviously attracted to the young man as well, as she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him during the meal. Remembering the old man’s warning he ignored her and went up to bed alone.
During the night he could bear it no longer and snuck into her room for a night of passion. Near dawn, he quietly crept back to his room so the old man wouldn’t hear, exhausted but happy.
He woke to feel a pressure on his chest. Opening his eyes he saw a large rock on his chest with a note on it that read:
“Chinese Torture 1: Large rock on chest.”
“Well, that’s easy,” he thought. “If that’s the best the old man can do then I don’t have much to worry about.” He picked the boulder up, walked over to the window and threw it out. As he did so, he noticed another note on it that read:
“Chinese Torture 2: Rock tied to left testicle.”
In a panic he glanced down and saw the rope that was already getting close to taut. Figuring that a few broken bones was better than castration he jumped out of the window after the boulder. As he plummeted toward the ground he saw a large sign on the ground that read:
“Chinese Torture 3: Right testicle tied to bed post.”