DOVER, Mass. This western suburb of Boston is known as a “horsey” town, with stables, bridle paths, saddle shops and other amenities that serve the many residents who move here for its equine culture. Unfortunately, that demographic doesn’t include Ted Worniack, a newcomer who attended his first neighborhood picnic last night, accompanied by his wife Sheila.
“Well, I never thought of it that way, but I suppose it’s true.”
When Worniack asked the hostess, Alison Symmes, what she did for fun, she responded naturally enough that she enjoyed horseback riding, and he responded with a wisecrack he’d been saving up for years.
“Oh, so you like the feel of a wild beast between your legs, huh?” he said as his wife groaned audibly.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Symmes, “Ted’s not feeling well, you’ll have to excuse us–we had a lovely time.”
“What? What did I say?” Ted said to Sheila once they were in their car driving home.
“I don’t want to discuss it,” Sheila snapped, “and don’t think you’re getting in between my legs anytime soon.”
Ted Worniack suffers from CSA Syndrome; the acronym stands for “congenital smart-aleck,” a person who cannot restrain him or herself from making offensive remarks in social settings. “Because the ailment has an early-onset, usually appearing first when a toddler first reaches kindergarten age, it was long thought to have a genetic basis,” says Dr. Susanne Faber of the New England Inappropriate Humor Clinic. “Now, we’re beginning to think that environmental factors may stimulate outbreaks of the malady, as you don’t find many camel sex wisecracks in desert climates.”
“Now open wide and say ‘doody-head.’”
An experimental drug, PutaSockInItrol, has produced encouraging results in clinical trials, with test subjects experiencing gag reflexes as they are about to tell lame jokes in settings where it would be inappropriate to do so.
“How are you feeling today?” Faber asks Mike Cleve, an outside sales rep to tech companies who depends on his constant patter of one-liners to “break the ice” with reluctant purchasing departments.
“Pretty good,” Cleve says, as he gives the willowy brunette the once-over. “Say, have you heard the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the lady snake-charmer?”
“No. I’m going to increase your dosage to 500 milliliters a day.”
Oh, yeah–sign me up for that medicine. My wife and the whole community will be thankful.