My older brother told me this joke when I was six years old:


The King’s Dying Wish

Long ago, when ping pong balls were rare and precious, a dying king summoned his three sons.

The King was a table tennis fanatic. He said " My dying wish is for you to bring me ping pong balls."

The eldest returned a week later with a treasure chest full of them. The king was pleased.

The second returned a month later with a whole boxcar of them. The king was overjoyed.

Two years passed before the youngest staggered in, battered and worn, carrying only a bulging handkerchief.

The king opened it, recoiled, and shouted, “What are these bloody hairy things?!”

The prince bowed. “Just as you commanded, Father… King Kong’s balls.”

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