Two or three years back, I came across a joke somewhere that caught my fancy, immediately inflicted it on several people via e-mail. This morning, via e-mail, it came home to roost. I now inflict it on you:
Sam's been in business for 25 years, decides he's sick of the stress. He quits his job, buys 50 acres of land in Alaska, as far away from humanity as possible.
He moves there, builds a one-room cabin. He sees the postman once a week, gets groceries twice a month. Apart from that minimal contact, his life consists of peace, quiet, solitude.
After six months or so of near total isolation, someone knocks on Sam's door. He opens it to find himself facing a large, bearded man.
"Name's Ned," says the man. "Your neighbor from down the road." The next house down the road is ten miles away. "Having a party Friday. Thought you might like to come. About five o'clock."
"Great," says Sam. "After six months out here I'm ready to meet some local folks. Thank you."
Ned turns to leave, then stops and turns back. "Gotta warn you," he says, "there's gonna be some drinkin'."
"Not a problem. I've done some of that myself. I can bend an elbow with the best of 'em."
Ned turns to leave, stops once more. "More'n likely gonna be some fightin' too."
"Well," says, Sam, "I generally get along with people. I'll be there. Thanks again."
Ned turns from the door, hesitates, turns back. "I've seen some wild sex at these parties, too," he says.
"Now that's really not a problem" says Sam. "I've been alone here for six months! I'll definitely be there. By the way, what should I bring?"