There once was a Red Indian whose given name was "Onestone." So named
>because he had only one testicle. He hated that name and asked everyone
>not to call him Onestone.
>
>After years and years of torment, Onestone finally cracked and said, "If
>anyone calls me Onestone again I will kill them!" The word got around
>and nobody called him that any more.
>
>Then one day a young woman named Blue Bird forgot and said, "Good
>morning, Onestone." He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into the
>forest where he made love to her all day and all night.
>He made love to her all the next day, until Blue Bird died from
>exhaustion.
>
>The word got around that Onestone meant what he promised he would do.
>Years went by and no one dared call him by his given name until a woman
>named Yellow Bird returned to the village after being away for many
>years.
>
>Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird's cousin, was overjoyed when she saw
>Onestone. She hugged him and said, "Good to see you, Onestone."
>
>Onestone grabbed her, took her deep into the forest, then he made love
>to her all day, made love to her all night, made love to her all the
>next day, made love to her all the next night, but Yellow Bird wouldn't
>die!
>
>What is the moral of this story? ...
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>
>OH, come on. take a guess!
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>Think about it
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>(You're going to love this!)
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>And the moral is:
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>You can't kill two birds with one stone!
