What's the funniest story your dad ever told you...

This came up a while ago over dinner, so I'd thought I'd see what you all could come up with. Here's my entry:

This was back during my father's navy days during the seventies when he was on a destroyer. They were in port in Australia on the day before they were to put out to sea again. During the time that he was officer of the deck (meaning he was officially in charge of the whole ship), the captain came back from lunch complaining that he wasn't feeling well and decided to lay down in his sea cabin off of the bridge (kind of like a ready room on Star Trek but with a bed). So, eventually, my dad goes down to the wardroom for a bit when the XO runs down and asks, "Do you have the duty now?"

"Yeah, why?" my father replied.

"Well, I think the captain's dead," the XO said.

"Are you f*cking kidding me?" Dad exclaimed. Since he was officer of the watch, most of the responsibility for handling the situation fell on him. So, he stormed out of the wardroom, back up to the sea cabin and knocked on the door. A gruff corpsmen answers, and my father asks point-blank, "Is he f*cking dead or alive?"

The corpsmen said that the captain was indeed dead after suffering a massive heart attack at the relatively young age of 39. So, good old Dad had to write up a sh*tload of reports, one to the Pentagon, one to CINCPACFLT, etc. To top that all off, Australian law dictated that if somebody died on a ship in port, the Aussies had to do their own autopsy, so they waited around for the local coroner to get there.

Dad (who on that cruise I think was the comm officer, if I remember right) and the XO scrambled to get the crew assembled on the side of the ship in their dress blues to see the captain off. As the corpsmen hauled the corpse down the gangplank, they all saluted in unison and the bosun's mate piped him off. The Aussies had driven by in one of those Ghostbuster-type ambulances. There happened to be a problem, however: the ambulance's length was rather short, and the captain was a good 6'4", so the door wouldn't close because his legs were sticking out.

To remedy that, a corpsmen ran back up the gangplank to my father and said, "Uh, sir, can you get the ship's company to do an about face?"

"Why?" Dad asked, dumbfounded.

"Because he's too f*cking big and we'd rather the crew not see us try to jam him in their," the corpsmen said.

Catching on, Dad ordered, "Company, Atten-shun! About...FACE!"

And he watched as the medical people repeatedly kicked the deceased captain's stiffening legs in to make room for the door. Wasn't exactly the most dignified way to leave a command.

Oh my god, I haven''t laughed so loud in such a long time. Definetly one to tell the kids.

Good story Rat Boy. My dad isn''t much on funny stories most of the time. He had a lot of different jobs when he was younger though and sometimes he tells the one about his shortest job ever, usually when I am making him listen to me gripe about work.

He grew up in San Diego and one of his early jobs was at an egg packing plant there. He was hired to drive their forklift with the loaded cartons of eggs on it from the warehouse, up a short ramp and into the backs of trucks that were parked there to take the eggs off to market or whatever. His first day on the job they gave him about 10 minutes of forklift training and then had him try it out on his own for a while. At one point the foreman or whatever you call the boss at an egg packing plant tells him to take a full load of crates out one of the doors and load it on a waiting truck. So my dad loads up the eggs on the forklift and raises it up. Of course now he can''t see in front of him all that well but he knows that he is pointed at the ramp more or less so he just takes it slow and heads on up. He gets up to the top of the ramp where the truck should be and all of a sudden he is falling, forklift, eggs, and all. Apparently the truck was not where it was supposed to be and he had just driven the forklift with several thousand eggs off the end of the ramp into a 5ish foot drop onto solid concrete. He says that when he saw what had happened he didn''t even bother to go back inside, he just left the enormous spreading pile of egg and forklift parts where it was and went home. He never heard from the company again, he figures the foreman was so embarassed about telling him the wrong door number that they decided not to try to put the blame on him but he doesnt really know.

My dad and his friend were trying to convince my grandfather to drive the van down a steep hill with my dad''s friend holding on to a rope and my dad holding on with ski''s. At first my grandfather said no but after a few beers he decided that it was a good idea. So they went ahead and did it. The went over a few hills and then came to a stop when two snowmobiles zoomed past them and a cop car was chasing them. The cop car stopped and looked at my grandfather. ""Bill, what the hell are you doing here?"" the cop asked, ""your boy just crashed your car into a wall."" My grandfather drove off leaving my dad and his friend at the bottom of a huge hill with a rope, skis, and a strange look from the cop. (My dad has a younger brother if anyone is confused). My dad and friend made it home and my grandfather arrived with my uncle a little while later. As soon as they got back my dad started fighting my uncle (for what reason noone really remembers). It was a pretty bad fight, but suddely the whole house started shaking. My grandmother thought that it was my uncle and dad fighting but it was actually an earthquake.

It''s not a great story but it''s the best one that I can remember. I also have one about Italian Fascists and another about my great-grandfather cutting a house in half.

What''s the funniest story your dad ever told you...

The closest thing to ""the birds and the bees"" talk my Dad ever attempted with me. I won''t go into details, but it involved ""white stuff"" and left me thoroughly confused for many years.

It wasn''t until I was a teenager... ""Oh! That''s what he was talking about.""

How about just funny stories?

I had some neighbors from Tonga and they were total c***s.

They were fat f*cks to a man. The least of ''em was 300lbs. They couldn''t hold their liquor, but they loved to drink. Almost every single weekend during the long, long Sacramento summer, a similar scene played out:

Scene 1, 3pm:
1) Happy loud drunk Tongans

Scene 2, 6pm:
2) UNhappy loud really drunk Tongans.

Scene 3, 9pm:
3) Maudlin and loud utterly wasted Tongans, screaming in Tagalog.

Scene 4, Midnight:
4) LET''S FIGHT!

They''d spill out of their house, all 15 or so of ''em, into the street, and just start beating the living sh*t out of each other. According to the oldest son, the only one who spoke parsable English, the fighting was like some kind of bonding deal in the family. A lot of bonding went on in that family. You''d also think people who weighed in excess of 300 pounds would get tired fast, but with a belly full of booze, these skeezers would pound the crap out of each other until nearly sunrise, alternately laughing uproariously and screaming at each other like goddamn savages.

Every. F*****g. Weekend.

The cops showed up the first couple of times, but quickly learned there just wasn''t enough backup in the world to deal with these people. I watched two cops get demolished by Papa San, then the Wrath of Tonga descended on the occupants of the second cruiser, then the third. They laughed at pepper spray and tasers. Nightsticks had no effect on them, at all. Getting just one into the back of a cop car was a 10-cop job, and once indignity took over, the rest of the family would surge like a human wave and cause even more cops to have to show up. After the fourth or fifth time dealing with the Pride of Polynesia, the cops just stopped coming, telling us that unless they were breaking other people''s sh*t, or beating other people up, to just ""keep them informed"".

Come the dawn, their lawn would look like a scene from one of those mass whale strandings, since that''s where they usually passed out. The ""best"" part was when the automatic sprinklers tripped on at 6:00am, awaking the herd from their slumber, and resulting in wails of the damned, and sometimes a spectacular bout of vomitting from one of the participants (which was always accompanied by a sound like a water buffalo experiencing a difficult birth). Then for the next couple of days, their place would be quiet as a crypt and no one would be seen coming or going. But no matter how unmercifully hung-over they were on Sunday, coming Saturday, it was time to repeat the whole process all over again.

Oddly enough, despite their weekend proclivities, they had the nicest house on the block and WOE be to anyone who dropped so much as a gum wrapped in front of it. My friend, a crazy Vietnamese named Steve, drew a quite good rendition of King Tut on their garage ''fridge. They chased him about three blocks before heat and fat took the piss out of them; looked like a spherical lynch mob chasing a stick figure.

I don''t know if they''re all that crazy, but the lot we were stuck with sure were.

That was funny Prederick. I wasn''t sure whether to believe it or not, but remembered different cultures are different then our own. Damn funny none-the-less.

I don''t have any dad stories as my father died when I was 4. But I do have a best friends dad story. Its short too
Anyway he was a marine back when drill sargents still had power to do whatever they wanted to. One guy in the group started making fun of the drill sargent so he made him go to the messhall and get a very used and messy trash can and put it on his head. Everytime anyone said ""sir"" he had to beat the can with a spoon and yell ""I''m a ding-a-ling"". Well my best friends dad was dumb enough at the time to laugh histerically the first time the guy did this. So the drill seargent made him go get a can and when the first guy had to yell ""I''m a ding-a-ling"" and bang the can, my friends dad had to laugh loudly and go ""Me too!""

My old man just retired from 30 years with the forest service, more specifically, forest fires. For the past 25 he''s been doing a lot of controlled burning.

When they do a controlled burn, they take a logging unit, and dig a trench(fireline) around it, then torch it. Once the fire has made its way through the unit, the fire crew goes back through the unit and mops up, checking for any smoldering and burning stumps that might ignite even weeks later, and create an uncontrolled burn.

While mopping up one unit, he heard someone above him yell, ""LOG!"" And looked up to see a burning log trundeling down the slope towards him. Standing about 10 yards behind him was a college kid working seasonally for the summer. The log was close enough, that if my dad went to either side, and the log bounced that way, it would hit him. So, he stood there poised, until he was sure of what direction the log would most likely go. He dove out of the way safely, and the log bounced past him.

When he looked back to watch the log, he realized that the kid behind him hadn''t even moved. It looked like the log was going to smash the guy, but it hit a rock and bounced up over him, grazing his hard hat.

Dad ran down, checked and made sure he was alright. Then, of course, he asked, ""Why didn''t you get the hell out of the way!?""
To which the guy replied, ""I thought you were gonna catch it""