Humor cures cancer
For a while my family was living next to a house full of twats. These guys had poser-motorcycles, and made a point of working on them at 7am on a weekend. Rev. REEEEVVV. They would race the wrong way down the one-way street, and just generally piss off everyone in the neighborhood.

One fateful day, my dad found a key on the walk between our houses. Well, this story wouldn't be evil if he had returned it. The motorcycle sat there unused for a few months, and we giggled amongst ourselves whenever we overheard them complaining about it.

Every so often, my dad would pull the key out of his pocket, jingle it, and cackle hysterically. We moved out about four months later, and my dad decided to pass the joy on to one of the neighbors.

There was a family living directly across from us, and the father had complained before about how they would race around with no regard for his young children. He was pretty down in the dumps because he had just found out that he had colon cancer (my dad: "that would explain why he seemed so anal lately"). One day when he was out in the yard, my dad went across the street, pulled out the key and jangled it. He pointed at the motorcycle with a grin on his face, and handed the key to the guy.

His smile was priceless.
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Tue 18 Dec 2007, 0:00, Reply)