Once upon a time, there was a young couple living in the lower east side of downtown Manhattan. Jan and Dave had no complaints and were living a comfortable life in the Big Apple. One day while dave was on his way home from work, Jan began making dinner. She reached for the jar of anchovies and, upon emptying the little fishes into a pan, she noticed a small note at the bottom of the jar. At closer inspection, she noticed a phone number on it. Curious, she dialed. After the connection had been made, a voice at the other end said: “Don’t move, lady; we’ll be right over!”
Frightened, she hung up the phone. When she turned around she found three men standing there in long sheets of cellophane who carried her to a waiting car which drove her to an international airport where they loaded her onto a waiting jetliner. Frightened and confused, she blacked out.
Upon awakening, she found herself in a strange foreign language speaking nation. In desperation, she found sanctuary in the arms of a handsome secret agent. With his kiss still warm upon her lips, he betrayed her to a group of mad scientists who performed strange experiments which until then had only been done using rare insects.
Meanwhile, back in New York . . .
Dave had been drinking heavily since Jan’s disappearance and had been visiting many of the local bars in the neighborhood. While residing at one of his more frequented bars, someone flipped on the television set located above the bottles of spirits. “… Welcome to … Bowling for Dollars!” said a voice from the TV. Dave looked up in a dizzy stare.
“Hey, Dave, there sure is something familiar about that bowling ball,” said another one of the locals in a low, sly voice.
To this remark, Dave’s face lit up in a frenzied horror as he screamed “Oh my God!!! That bowling ball— It’s my wife!!!”
The moral of this story is: NEXT TIME YOU PLACE YOUR ORDER, DON’T FORGET TO SAY: “No Anchovies, please.”