The flea

A flea had oiled up his little flea legs and his little flea arms, than he spread out his blanket, and was proceeding to soak up the Miami sun.

All of a sudden, who should stumble by on the beach but an old flea buddy of his.

"Peter," what happened to you?" asked the flea, because Peter looked terrible. He was wrapped up in a blanket, his nose was running, his eyes red and his teeth where chattering.

"I got a ride down here in some guy's mustache and he came down here on a motorcycle. I nearly froze my nuts off," wheezed Peter.

The first flea replied, "Let me give you a tip Peter, Ole pal," spreading some more suntan oil on his shoulders. "You go downtown to the stewardess lounge at the airport, see, and you get up on the toilet seat, and when an Air Florida stewardess comes in to take a leak, you hop on for a nice warm ride. Got it?"

So you can imagine the flea's surprise when after a month or so later, while he is stretched out all warm and comfortable on the beach, who should he see but Peter again, looking more chilled and miserable than before. "Listen," replied Peter; "I did everything you told me to do. I made it
to the stewardess lounge and waited until a really cute one came in, and made a perfect landing and got so warm and cozy that I dozed right off."

"And so? Asked the first flea.
"Well the next thing I know, I am in this guy's mustache again!"

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