Pink Ping Pong Balls

[Benner]

A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?'

 

The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

 

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'

 

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'

 

And so, the next day, the son was given as his bithday present a pink ping pong ball.

 

The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.

 

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

 

`Father,' replied the son, `I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'

 

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a tenpack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a tenpack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'

 

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.

 

The boy took the tenpack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the tenpack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.

 

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

 

`Father,' said the son to this, `I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'

 

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'

 

`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.

 

`I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls,' said the father, `but if it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you want, it is a carton of pink ping pong balls that you shall have.'

 

And so, the next day, the boy was given as his birthday present a carton of pink ping pong balls.

 

The boy was delighted and took the carton to his room. The next day, miraculously (as if by magic, even) the pink ping pong balls had all disappeared.

 

`Dear son,' said the father, `I must ask now, what do you do with all those pink ping pong balls?'

 

The son, however, was reluctant to tell him. `Please humour me, dear father.'

 

The carton of pink ping pong balls, however, was never seen again.

 

The next year, it was clear that the son would get a car, but the father felt that, perhaps, his son also had some other wish apart from the obvious. So, one day before the son's 18th birthday, the father asked him whether he had a special wish for his birthday.

 

`Dearest father,' the son started, `I have everything a young man could possibly want, but there is one craving in me. I would, more than anything, want a warehouse full of pink ping pong balls.'

 

One of these years, his father thought, I should get to the bottom of this. However, he decided to humour his son's wish. At least he had been wise enough to buy shares in a pink ping pong ball factory.

 

The next day, the son was given the address of a warehouse where all his new pink ping pong balls were stored. The son was delighted and decided to spend the next night in the warehouse rather than at home.

 

The following morning, the son stepped out of the warehouse, but it seemed to be empty otherwise. The father had a closer look and indeed, apart from empty cardboard boxes, nothing was left inside the warehouse. No pink ping pong balls were left.

 

The following year, one day before the son's 19th birthday, the father braced himself for another warehouse of pink ping pong balls. He asked his son what his deepest desire was and he had not been entirely wrong.

 

`Father, you have made me very happy these last years and this year I ask of you a shipload of pink ping pong balls if at all possible.'

 

It was possible, if only because the father had by now bought each and every factory of pink ping pong balls in the country.

 

The next day, the father took his son to the harbour and showed him a huge tanker and told his son that there were millions, billions, trillions of pink ping pong balls in there.

 

`Father,' the son said, `You've made me very happy yet again.'

 

That night, the son spent on board the tanker.

 

The next morning, not a single of the pink ping pong balls could be found, but the son was happy.

 

A few days before his 20th birthday, however, the son had a terrible road accident and was taken to the hospital.

 

His father visited the young man in hospital. `My dear son! Can I bring you anything to make you feel better?'

 

Weakly, the son sat up in bed. `Father, dearest father, grant me this wish; just one tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'

 

The father held his son's hand tightly. `Whatever you wish my son, but I have to give you one condition. Even if it may be embarrassing, I must know what you did with all those pink ping pong balls.'

 

`Very well, father, but please indulge me first. I will tell you whatever you wish to know after you have given me the ten pink ping pong balls.'

 

The father thought that was fair enough and the next day brought his son the ten asked for pink ping pong balls. The son smiled weakly but seemed too weak to talk.

 

`Son, I leave these pink ping pong balls with you and shall come back tomorrow to ask of you what you have done with all those pink ping pong balls.'

 

The son nodded weakly.

 

The next day, less than surprisingly, no pink ping pong balls could be found in the son's hospital room.

 

`Now, my dearest son, apple of my eye, treasure of my life, please tell me what you did with all those pink ping pong balls,' the father requested.

 

The son nodded and the father gripped his hand tighter.

 

`I-' the son started and sat up a bit, swallowing with a dry mouth.

 

`I- I-'

 

Then he died.

[TheHaze]

-rep

[slow1647545513]

Where the fuck is the rest of the joke? Seriously, I read that whole thing only to be let down...

[wnaplay1647545503]

To find out the real reason behind the pink ping pong ball , click here

 

 

If the above link doesn't work , click here

[wnaplay1647545503]

While hanging out at the local YMCA a young pregnant woman went into labor. A doctor was called for over the loud speaker and one shortly arrived an in a leisurely manner began to prepare for the birth. The delivery went off without a hitch, but as the doctor was handling the baby he dropped it, with only an injury to the doctor’s pride. As the doctor bent over to pick up the fallen babe a ping pong ball fell from his breast pocket, as he had just come from playing ping-pong, and struck the baby boy in the forehead. This was Michael’s first encounter with the ping pong ball. Seeing as how this ball was the proverbial bottle of wine that christened the baby into the new world, the mother kept it. At the age of one the bright young boy began to walk, on his third step he tripped on a ping pong ball and did not walk again for 3 weeks. Only months later after hearing his mother tell the story of his birth many times, young Michael said his first words: “ping-pong”. At the age of three he was strapped in the back seat of his mother’s minivan when she seemed to be taking entirely too long in the grocery store. In danger of dying of heat exhaustion young Michael grabbed a nearby Ping-Pong ball, for one was never far from his side, and threw it with utmost accuracy at the window lock button on the front console. With the windows unlocked the boy was able to operate the power window and get fresh air. His mother returned shortly. This was only the first time a Ping-Pong ball would save his life. At four he attempted to insert a ping pong ball into his nose. He failed, but afterwards blew the biggest bugger of his life. When Michael was five years old he swallowed a ping pong ball on a dare from his father. This he was successful at with only mild choking difficulty. At the age of 6 Michael won his first game of ping pong, defeating in a close match a 28 year old mentally handicapped man, better known as his father. At 8 he was entering Ping-Pong tournaments for children and was dominating the field of competitors. After one of his most brutal victories Michael’s father was making a rare appearance in the cheering section. So naturally he hit the ping-pong ball towards his father in a celebratory manner. His father choked and died on that Ping-Pong ball, seeing as how he lacked the capacity to dodge, swallow, or regurgitate the fatal orb. Devastated by this tragic incident Michael went on an eight year hiatus from competitive ping-pong, though he still practiced passionately in the privacy of the YMCA and site of his birth. When he was nine there was a rash of ping pong ball thefts at the YMCA which led Michael to begin producing personalized ping pong balls. On each ball was printed his name and address. Later these balls would be sold at auction for thousands of dollars. At the age of twelve Michael finally noticed in his fecal matter the ping-pong ball he had swallowed in his youth. This discovery forced Michael to go to the hospital for radiological testing to see if any damage had been done by the ball’s passing. Upon examining the MRIs, the doctor noticed an unusual amount of swelling in Michael’s appendix. The appendicitis would surely have killed Michael had it gone unchecked. At the age of sixteen while playing at the YMCA Michael received word of the presidential motorcade that was to pass by the window shortly. In his excitement he hit the ball entirely too hard, whereupon it bounced off three walls and went out the window. Just as the motorcade was passing the YMCA the sphere rolled under the left rear tire of the president’s limo. The resulting sound so much resembled a gunshot that the president dove back into his car, narrowly avoiding the bullet of the assassin that was taking aim at his head at that exact moment. During the resulting investigation, michael’s personalized ball was seen as the one thing that saved the presidents life. He was contacted and awarded the Medal of Honor, the only civilian to ever receive this award. At the ceremony the President challenged Michael to a game of ping pong in the oval office. Michael made quick work of the president, beating him in straight sets. The President appointed him to a spot on the United States ping pong team. He played along side of Forrest Gump and quickly shot to number one in the international rankings after defeating his famed teammate and moving on to win the international ping pong cup at the age of 20 (by which time the war was over). On his twenty-first birthday he became of legal drinking age. At a very young age he had vowed never to drink, because it was his grandmother’s alcoholism that had produced his father’s retardation. He did manage to fit in at college parties however in that he was an obvious natural at the game of beer-pong. Although he would have honorably drunk if he ever lost, he never tasted defeat. In college he studied aerospace engineering but spent most of his time trying to develop a dimpled ping-pong ball to allow for superior play. Little did he know that his design would be used in the distant future to adapt ping pong to be playable on the moon colonies. Michael graduated in the middle of his class and went on to be a sales rep for a company that produced personalized ping pong balls. He supplemented his income by playing competitive ping-pong. When he retired from both at the age of 45 he taught ping pong lessons at the local YMCA. At the age of 68 while he was giving one of his best students a personal lesson he had a heart attack and died.

[slow1647545513]

wow.

[GonneVille]

Then he died.

OK, seriously? Fuck you. Fuck you with a rake, man.

:asshole:

[GonneVille]

Bastard.

[Benner]

ahhahahaha!!! Don't worry I thought the same thing when I read it. I was like "Are you fucking kidding me, what the fuck did he do with the damn ping pong balls. Where the fuck did he put them?"

 

So I had to share my anger.

[Mr. Jones]

You sunofa

[Flyin Miata]

HAHA that was great, I might have thought differently if I didn't skip to the end after getting about 1/3 of the way through. +rep.

[OGRE]

asshole!

[Draco-REX]

Blue Velvet.

[Exploder95]

waste of my life...

 

...good thing im at work until 4 :thumbdown