There was once a handyman who had a dog named Mace. Mace was a great dog except he had one weird habit: he liked to eat grass -- not just a little bit, but in quantities that would make a lawnmower blush. And nothing, it seemed, could cure him of it. One day, the handyman lost his wrench in the tall grass while he was working outside. He looked and looked, but it was nowhere to be found.
As it was getting dark, he gave up for the night and decided to look the next morning. When he awoke, he went outside and saw that his dog had eaten all the grass in the area, around where he had been working, and his wrench now lay in plain sight, glinting in the sun.
Going out to get his wrench, he called the dog over to him and said, "A grazing Mace, how sweet the hound, that saved a wrench for me."
It was that time, during the Sunday morning service, for the children's sermon. All the children were invited to come forward.
One little girl was wearing a particularly pretty dress and, as she sat down, the pastor leaned over and said, "That is a very pretty dress. Is it your Easter Dress?"
The little girl replied, directly into the pastor's clip-on microphone, "Yes, and my Mom says it's a pain in the ass to iron."
An old Wild West fort is about to be attacked. The wily old general sends for his trusty Indian scout. "You must use all your thirty years of skill in trying to estimate the sort of army we are up against here."
The trusty Indian scout lies down and puts his ear to the ground. "Heap large war party," he says, "maybe three hundred braves, four chiefs, two on black stallions, two on white stallions. All have war paint. Many many guns. Medicine man also with them."
"Good grief!" exclaims the general. "You can tell all of that just by listening to the ground?"
"No," replies the Indian, "I can see under the gate."