Carl used to practice meditation on an old mat. His wife was not happy about the worn-out mat. One day Carl found the rug missing from its usual place. “Where is it?” he asked her sternly. “It has achieved nirvana,” she retorted.
The young boy protested vigorously when his mother asked him to take his little sister along fishing. “The last time she came,” he objected, “I didn’t catch a single fish.” “I’ll talk to her,” his mother said, “and I promise this time she won’t make any noise.”
“It wasn’t the noise, Mom,” the boy replied. “She ate all my bait.”
They were watching a TV soap opera, and he became irritated by the way his wife was taking it to heart. “How can you sit there and cry about the made-up troubles of people you’ve never even met?” he demanded.
“The same way you can jump up and scream when some guy you’ve never met scores a touchdown,” she replied.
After removing a tiny fish from his hook and throwing it back into the water, the fisherman said: “Don’t show up around here anymore without your parents!”