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A lady walks into the welfare office in the hill country of West Virginia trailed by 15 kids. "WOW," the social worker exclaims, "Are they ALL YOURS???" "Yes, they're all mine," the tired mother sighs, having heard that question a thousand times before. "Well," says the social worker," then you must be here to sign up. I'll need all their names." "This one is my oldest-he's Leroy." "OK, and who's next?" "Well, this one's Leroy, also." The social worker raises an eyebrow but continues. One by one, through the oldest four, all boys, all named Leroy. Then she is introduced to the eldest girl, also named Leroy! "All right...I'm seeing a pattern here...Are they ALL named Leroy?" "Well, yes. It's actually really convenient. When it's time for dinner, I just yell 'Leroy!' and they all come running. And if I need to stop the kid who's running into the street, I just yell 'Leroy' and the kid, whoever he is, stops in his tracks. It's the smartest idea I ever had, naming them all Leroy" The social worker thinks this over for a bit, then wrinkles her forehead and says tentatively, "But what if you just want ONE kid to come, and not the whole bunch?" "Ah, that's easy," said the mother. "Then I call them by their last name." |
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