Rather than torture my poor, long-suffering friends with two bad jokes that they’d have to hear over and over again, because I forget who I’ve told what to and when, I’ll post them here for the world to ignore. These jokes are vaguely ethnic, but I’ll do my part to make them even more vague.
To which the city guy says, “Oh, no, I’m not about to get my head stuck in that hole.”
Presently, the campers were deep in the forest, and it started to rain, covering up the sun. The campers’ guide had lost his compass crossing a stream a few hours back, and he worried that he was leading his friends further away from their camp. With the sky darkening, he feared the worst. The campers huddled together under their jackets, trying to keep dry and warm, but without any provisions, they were thristy and hungry, and they felt hopelessly lost. They spent the night under the canopy, hoping for better tidings in the morning.
When dawn broke, the campers heard voices in the distance. Nervous, but encouraged by the sounds of other humans, they tracked down the sounds. The campers found a group of natives huddled under another tree, with animal skins over their heads.
The campers’ guide walked forward to greet the native that stood out the most, the one with a tremendous white and red crown of feathers over his head. This native looked proud and commanding. The guide said, “Excuse me, but we’re hopelessly lost. Can you tell us where we are in the forest?”
The proud native looked at the guide and said, “I dunno, we’re the Fuhkawee.”
Sigh. I know. I know. At least I didn’t have to tell these to you in person.