At North Royalton, the Special Ed department would go around with some of their students to refill the pop machines. It gave the students a way to feel like they were contributing and helped them with practical skills.
One day, as I was leaving cafeteria duty, one of the differently-tarded students hailed me.
“Mr. Nestoff, do you want to hear a joke?”
He was given a joke book for his birthday, and was pretty happy about it.
“I really do. Tell me a joke.”
“What do you call a sick pig?”
I should be able to get this, but I was stumped.
“I don’t know, what do you call a sick pig?”
“Oink-ment”
Of course the joke is, “What do you give a sick pig?” Since he botched the setup, I thought it was hilarious.
He thought it was hilarious that somebody liked his joke. For the rest of the semester, he told me the same joke. It always went just like it did the first time, and I always laughed because it was so dumb.
I may go to hell for that, but I shouldn’t. We were both honestly having a nice time.