Kidney Donor

I found my kidney on the kitchen counter. There was also a note. “Jen, I don’t want your fucking kidney,” it read. It was from Lindsey, my on-and-off-again girlfriend who swore far too much.

I immediately picked up the phone and called her. “Take my damn kidney, you stupid moron,” I said. “You need it.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t need it. I don’t want anything from you,” she said.

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Body Parts in the Mail

One day, Ian noticed a severed foot in his mailbox. The foot was sitting on his mail. It was sitting on his Chase credit card bill and his Dollar Saver ad. He wasn’t sure what to do with the foot or whom to tell. Because Ian didn’t know what to do, he panicked and carried the foot back to his apartment.

Several people noticed the creepy guy in apartment F-2017 carrying a foot around the parking lot. A woman who lived two doors down from Ian saw him. She had been getting into her car. She wrote the date and time and, “Guy from apartment F-2017 with foot,” in the notebook she carried around in her purse.

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Before the Boys of Mr. Vandermast’s Fourth Period Health Class at Robert J. Dole Senior High School: Dr. Chapwick’s Last Talk

Mr. Vandermast stood in front of his fourth period health class. “OK, boys, we now would like to welcome Dr. Chapwick from the university to talk to you about masturbation.” The boys in the class began giggling. “Boys, please.” He held up his hands. “Dr. Chapwick is a world-renowned psychotherapist who has studied human sexuality for over forty years.” He shook Dr. Chapwick’s hand. “Welcome, Dr. Chapwick.”

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Back to work. My vacation is over, and, crap, I’m back at work. I stop in the kitchen at work to get some coffee. That’s the only thing that keeps me awake at this boring-as-hell job. My job uses something like one brain cell. It is so beneath me. At my job, I’m like a car with only one cylinder firing. Or something like that, whatever.

“Welcome back. How was the coast? That’s where you went, the coast?” Rick says. He’s this guy I work with. He’s OK, not too annoying. He’s reading the paper and drinking coffee.

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Please No Swimming during Corporate Swim Fun ’10

We’re thinking about swimming. We’re all standing around the pool looking at each other. It’s a game of wills: Which employees will crack first and actually expose their sorry-ass bodies to us, their supportive coworkers? Probably Jim in sales will be first. Then that receptionist who comes in on Thursdays.

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