After spending several hours wandering through the woods, Santa and Banta are thoroughly lost. Disorientated, they sit down to discuss what to do next.

"Hey, I have an idea," says Santa. "If we each fire three shots into the air, someone will hear them and come to help us."

Banta agrees, so each of them fires their shots. An hour later, nobody has come to help, so they decide to fire three more shots. Another hour passes - still no one.

"Okay lets try this one more time" says Santa.

"Yaar Santa, this had better work," replies Banta. "These are our last arrows."
A group of nuns were travelling in a car when it had a flat tire. They got out and try to change it, but being rather unworldly, they don't really know how. Luckily, a truck came along and the driver offered to change it for them. They gratefully accepted.

As the trucker jacked up the car, it slipped from the jack and he yelled, "Son-of-a-bitch"

The eldest nun said to him, "That is not nice language. We understand that you are upset, but you mustn't use such language."

"Sorry, Sister," he said, and tried again. Again it slipped, this time almost smashing his fingers. "Son-of- a-bitch," he yelled again.

"Please, don't use such language. If changing our tire is causing you to do so, it would be better if you didn't help us."

"But I get so upset, and it just comes out."

"Well," said the nun, "Say something else when you get upset, something like 'Sweet Jesus, help me.'"

So the trucker tried to jack up the car again. And again it slipped.

He started to say, "Son.." but he corrected himself and said, "Sweet Jesus, help me."

At that, the car miraculously rose into the air all by itself.

The nuns looked at the car in wonder, exclaiming in unison, "Son-of-a-bitch!"
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