Entertainment

Bob Hill and his new wife, Betty, were vacationing in Europe -- as it happens, in Transylvania. They were driving a rental car along a rather deserted highway. It was late, and raining very hard. Bob could barely see 10 feet in front of the car. Suddenly the car skids out of control! Bob attempts to control the car, but to no avail! The car swerves and smashes into a tree.

Moments later, Bob shakes his head to clear the fog. Dazed, he looks over at the passenger seat and sees his new wife unconscious, with her head bleeding! Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knows he has to carry her to the nearest phone. Bob carefully picks his wife up and begins trudging down the road.

After a short while, he sees a light. He heads towards the light, which is coming from an old, large house. He approaches the door and knocks.

A minute passes. A small, hunched man opens the door. Bob immediately blurts, "Hello, my name is Bob Hill, and this is my wife, Betty. We've been in a terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I please use your phone??"

"I'm sorry," replies the hunchback, "but we don't have a phone. My master is a doctor. Come in and I will get him."

Bob brings his wife in. An elegant man comes down the stairs. "I'm afraid my assistant may have misled you. I am not a medical doctor. I am a scientist.

However, it is many miles to the nearest clinic, and I have had basic medical training.

With that, Igor picks up Betty and carries her downstairs, with Bob following closely. Igor places Betty on a table in the lab.

Bob collapses from exhaustion and his own injuries; so Igor places Bob on an adjoining table. After a brief examination, Igor's master looks worried. "Things are serious, Igor. Prepare a transfusion." Igor and his master work feverishly, but to no avail. Bob and Betty Hill are no more.

The Hills? deaths upsets Igor's master greatly. Wearily, he climbs the steps to his conservatory, which houses his pipe organ. For it is here that he has always found solace. He begins to play, and a stirring, almost haunting melody fills the house.

Meanwhile, Igor is still in the lab tidying up. As the music fills the lab, his eyes catch movement, and he notices the fingers on Betty Hill's hand twitch. Stunned, he watches as Bob's arm begins to rise! He is further amazed as Betty sits straight up!

Unable to contain himself, he dashes up the stairs to the conservatory. He bursts in and shouts to his master,

"Master, Master! . . . The Hills are alive with the sound of music!"

Dear Abby, I have a man I never could trust. He cheats so much on me I'm not even sure this baby I'm carrying is his.

Dear Abby, I am a twenty-three year old liberated woman who has been on the pill for two years. It's getting expensive and I think my boyfriend should share half the cost, but I don't know him well enough to discuss money with him.

Dear Abby, I suspected that my husband had been fooling around, and when I confronted him with the evidence he denied everything and said it would never happen again.

Dear Abby, Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy who was raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?

Dear Abby, I joined the Navy to see the world. I've seen it. Now how do I get out?

Dear Abby, I was married to Bill for three months and I didn't know he drank until one night he came home sober.

Dear Abby, My forty-year-old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50 an hour every week for two-and-a-half years. He must be crazy.

Dear Abby, My mother is mean and short-tempered. I think she is going through her mental pause.

Dear Abby, Our son was married in January. Five months later his wife had a ten-pound baby girl. They said the baby was premature. Tell me, can a baby this big be that early? Signed, Wondering.
Dear Wondering. The baby was on time, the wedding was late. Forget it.

Dear Abby, I have always wanted to have my family history traced, but I can't afford to spend a lot of money to do it. Any suggestions? Signed, Sam Dear Sam, Yes. Run for public office.

Dear Abby, I am forty-four years old and I would like to meet a man my age with no bad habits. Signed, Rose Dear Rose, So would I.

There was something funny about the kidnapping crime scene that Special Agent Frievald couldn't quite place, and the thought stuck with him throughout the rest of the day, like those tiny little bits of the circumferent skin from the bologna slices on a foot-long Subway Cold Cut Trio that get stuck in between the last two molars on the upper left, on the tongue side where you can't possibly reach them with a toothpick, your fingernails, or even a systematically straightened paper clip, they just sit there and make everything you eat at your next meal taste vaguely like vinegar and mayonnaise, and then somehow -- quietly but miraculously -- they disappear by themselves in the middle of the night while you're asleep, just like the visiting Countess appeared to have done.

Two Goobers were digging a ditch on a very hot day.

One said to the other, "Why are we down in this hole digging a ditch when our boss is standing up there in the shade of a tree?"

"I don't know," responded the other.  "I'll ask him."

So he climbed out of the hole and went to his boss.  "Why are we digging in the hot sun and you're standing in the shade?" "Intelligence," the boss said.  "What do you mean, 'intelligence'?" The boss said, "Well, I'll show you.  I'll put my hand on this tree and I want you to hit it with your fist as hard as you can." The goober took a mighty swing and tried to hit the boss' hand.  The boss removed his hand and the goober hit the tree.  The boss said, "That's intelligence!"

The goober went back to his hole.  His friend asked, "What did he say?" "He said we are down here because of intelligence." "What's intelligence?" said the friend.

The first goober put his hand on his face and said, Take your shovel and hit my hand."