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From: simard@loral.UUCP
Newsgroups: net.jokes
Subject: The classic 'That''s once' joke
Message-ID: <459@loral.UUCP>
Date: Tue, 28-Aug-84 23:42:47 EDT
Article-I.D.: loral.459
Posted: Tue Aug 28 23:42:47 1984
Date-Received: Thu, 30-Aug-84 12:19:44 EDT
Organization: Loral Instrumentation, San Diego, CA
Lines: 75

[That's...enough!]

What follows is the joke referred to in the title.  I you know it
(which most probably will) please spare me the flames; merely
exercise the 'n' key at this time...

If you do not, well, enjoy!

=========== THE CLASSIC "THAT'S ONCE" STORY =====================

Once upon a time, somewhere in the last century, a decent and proper
young New England man decided it was time to marry.  He courted and
eventually won the affection of a perfect young lady.  She was
well versed in the ways of marriage, was strong, able, and fair
of appearance besides.  So, having done what was customary to do
in such a situation, they were married.

Well, sir, this man was a New Englander; proper, God-fearing, and
laconic.  Words were not to waste, said he; and surely he wasted
them not, expressing what had to be expressed in the simplest, briefest
manner.  His young wife, being of the same turn, replied little and
there ensued but the most meager of conversations between them.

Following the wedding, then, was the travel to their home, which
lay some distance, by horse-drawn cart, away.  The road, though
most beautifully decorated by Nature's hand this time of year, was
ill-kept and difficult to travel.  The trip ensued in silent appreciation
of God's green earth, until the horse, faced with a small tree blocking
the road, refused to progress.  The tree was small enough to be
driven over, but the horse was nevertheless frightened.  So the man
dismounted the cart, took the reins, and with much effort and persuation,
induced the horse to cross the felled tree and take the cart over it.
When he had succeeded, the man remounted the cart, and spoke only
these words in a sullen mutter:

"That's once!"

and proceeded.

Hours passed in continued silence.  Miles of verdant New England forest
passed beneath their wheels, until a narrow creek crossed the road.
The creek was shallow and fairly quiet, but the horse again rebelled
at proceeding.  Again the young man dismounted, took the reins and
persuaded the reluctant horse to cross the stream.  This being done,
he remounted the cart and spoke only these words in a sullen mutter:

"That's twice!"

and proceeded.

In due course, the drive passed hill and dale, peak and valley, until
the road reached a place where it sloped rather sharply downward.
For the third time, the horse refused to proceed.  So the young man
dismounted, but rather than take the reins, he drew a rifle from the
cart and shot the horse dead.

His young wife was aghast!  Neither was wealthy or landed, and the
horse was a costly item to lose, not to mention the cruelty to the
poor animal.  This, and much more, the young wife forcefully told
her young husband, in a flurry of speech highly out of custom for this
place, or this time, before Gloria Steinem.  The husband listened to
the diatribe wordlessly for many minutes until the young wife had
spent her anger, and paused for his reply.  It was returned promptly,
as he looked her directly in the eye and said:

"That's once!"

 
-- 
[     I am not a stranger, but a friend you haven't met yet     ]

Ray Simard
Loral Instrumentation, San Diego
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