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From: jedgingt@udenva.UUCP (not necessarily)
Newsgroups: net.jokes
Subject: Re: Re: Re: FatherGoose/ShaggyDog/Asimov's
Message-ID: <1211@udenva.UUCP>
Date: Sun, 9-Mar-86 14:29:11 EST
Article-I.D.: udenva.1211
Posted: Sun Mar  9 14:29:11 1986
Date-Received: Wed, 12-Mar-86 22:11:51 EST
References: <2228@aecom.UUCP> <282@galbp.UUCP> <863@umd5.UUCP> <320@rosevax.UUCP>
Reply-To: jedgingt@udenva.UUCP (not necessarily)
Organization: U of Denver
Lines: 73
Keywords: The Death of a Foy


the one about "without kin...clones" reminded me of this great Azimov
pun/groaner, so i dug it up to share with you. Please, will the
copywrite flamers and the Azimov fans who've read this kindly
leave the room now.  thanks.  This very short story first
appeared in "The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction",
October 1980, but i read it in _The_Winds_of_Change_and_Other_Stories_
by I. Azimov, Del Ray Books, N.Y, 1983
so for lovers of truely BAD puns, without further ado...

		The Death of a Foy

     It was extremely unusual for a Foy to be dying on Earth.
They were the highest social class on their planet (with a name 
which was pronounced - as nearly as Earthly throats could make 
out the sounds - Sortibackenstrete) and were virtually immortal.
     Every Foy, of course, came to voluntary death eventually,
and this one had given up because of an ill-starred love affair,
if you can call it a love affair where five individuals, in order
to reproduce must indulge in a year long mental contact.
Apparently, he himself had not fit into the contact after several
months of trying and it had broken his heart - or hearts, for he
had five.
     All Foys have five large hearts annd there was speculation
that it was this that made them virtually immortal.
     Maude Briscoe, Earth's most renowned surgeon, wanted those
hearts.  "It can't be just their number and size, Dwayne," she said 
to her cheif assistant.  "It has to be something physiological or 
biochemical.  I must have them."
     "I don't know if we can manage that," said Dwayne Johnson.
"Ive been speaking to him earnestly, trying to overcome the Foy
taboo against dismemberment after death.  I've had to play on the
feeling of tragedy any Foy would have over death away from home.
And I've had to lie to him, Maude."
     "Lie?"
     "I told him that after death, there would be a dirge sung
for him by the world famous choir led by Harold J. Gassenbaum.
I told him that by Earthly belief this would mean that his astral
essence would instantaneously wafted back, through hyperspace,
to his home planet of Sortib-what's its name.--Provided he would
sign a release allowing you, Maude, to have his hearts for
scientific investigation."
     "Don't tell me he believed that horse excrement!" said Maude.
     "Well, you know this modern attitude about accepting the
myths and beliefs of intelligent aliens.  It wouldn't have been
polite for him not to believe me.  Besides, the Foys have a
profound admiration for terrestrial science and i think this one
is a little flattered that we should want his hearts.  He
promised to consider the suggestion, and i hope he decides soon
because he can't live more than another day or so, and we must
have his permission by interstellar law, and the hearts must be
fresh, and -- Ah, his signal!"
     Dwayne Johnson moved in with smooth and noiseless speed.
     "Yes?" he whispered, unobtrusively turning on the
holographic recording device in case the Foy wished to grant
permission.
     The Foy's large, gnarled, rather tree-like body lay
motionless on the bed. The bulging eyes palpitated (all five of
them) as they rose, each on its own stalk, and turned toward
Dwayne. The Foy's voice had a strange tone and the lipless edges
of his open, round mouth did not move, but the words formed
perfectly. His eyes were making the Foyan gesture of assent as he
said:
  
     "Give my big hearts to Maude, Dwayne. Dismember me for
     Harold's choir.  Tell all the Foy's on Sortibackenstrete
     that i will soon be there..."

[insert loud groan here]

yes, this is the worst pun _I_ have ever been exposed to.

Jim Evans