A friend of mine had resisted efforts to get him to run with our jogging group until his doctor told him he had to exercise. Soon thereafter, he reluctantly joined us for our 5:30 am jogs on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

After a month of running, we decided that my friend might be hooked, especially when he said he had discovered what “runner’s euphoria” was.

“Runner’s euphoria,” he explained, “is what I feel at 5:30 am on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

When a rattlesnake got loose in the second-floor hall of the science building at my university, it created quite a furor. Fortunately, one of the professors was an expert on snakes.

An agitated student ran to fetch him, urging him to come quickly, as a dangerous snake was loose and terrorizing everyone in the building.

The professor leisurely strolled out into the hall, examined the snake from head to tail, and calmly returned to his office. “It’s not one of mine,” he said, and closed the door.

As I stepped out of the shower, I heard someone in my kitchen downstairs. Knowing that my wife was out, I grabbed my 1903 heirloom rifle—which no longer works—and crept downstairs, forgetting the fact that I was in my birthday suit.

I came around the corner with the gun raised, only to find my wife loading the dishwasher. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I thought I heard an intruder. 
I came down to scare him.”

Scanning the contours of my doughy, naked body, she mumbled, “You didn’t need the gun.”