Just send him down here with $1000,” the boy says, “I’ll get him into the course.”
So, his father sends the dog and the $1000. About 2/3 way through the semester, the money runs out. The boy calls his father again.
“So how’s Fido doing, son?” his father asks.
“Awesome, dad, he’s talking up a storm,” he says, “but you just won’t believe this, they’ve had such good results with this program, that they’ve implemented a new one to teach the animals to READ!”
“READ!?” says his father, “No kidding! What do I have to do to get him in that program?”
“Just send $2,500, I’ll get him in the class.”
And his father sends the money. At the end of the semester, the boy has a problem. When he gets home, his father will find out that the dog can neither talk nor read. So he shoots the dog.
When he gets home, his father is all excited. “Where’s Fido? I just can’t wait to hear him talk and listen to him read something!”
“Dad,” the boy says, “I have some grim news. This morning when I got out of the shower, Fido was in the living room kicking back in the recliner, reading the morning paper, like he usually does. Then he turned to me and asked, ‘So, is your daddy still messing around with that little redhead who lives on Oak Street?’
The father says, “Damn I hope you SHOT that lying dog!”
“I sure did, Dad!”