Clairvoyant Cashier (Mermaid Parade)

Chocolat recently stood up at one of those work retreats where you get to learn the dreary life stories of your colleagues and explained he runs a joke site with two college friends. "Just don't ask me to tell you a joke," he said, "I either can't remember or I just don't understand them."
He's absolutely right— the hardest thing about telling people you run a joke site is that everyone assumes you've got some great jokes ready to go. The pressure is enormous, and it's clear why so many have died in this line of work.
But the truth is there's around two jokes in every expedition I laugh at (without faking) and one of those I remember for about a week, telling everyone who'll listen. Since my circle of friends and family is small enough to fit in a bathtub (stacked, standing, cut up into body-parts, any which way you'd like to fit my circle of friends and family in your bathtub) certain members of this troupe, such as my wife, will hear me tell this joke three or four times to outsiders who somehow stray my way before scurrying away in search of people with not so much body odor. When I think about the jokes I like best, most of them are either misogynistic, crass or just plain sick and wrong. I'd like to say this little reflection exercise taught me something about myself, but really it just confirmed some ugly truths I live with every minute of every day. Anyway, here's the Mermaid joke I'm ashamed to love. Hope you hate yourself for laughing at it as much as I do.