WHAT'S SO FUNNY?

     She was only 16 when she started college, and  not that far removed from our years of Religious Instruction brought to us then by the sober and humorless Catholic nuns.   So it was probably not that surprising that in our years of hitching various rides to college, and so being contained in vehicles for what was more than an hour's ride each way (no Northway then), when  we were sometimes subjected to jokes, many of them typical office style, blue, or "dirty" jokes, that Dorothy would become offended and refuse to laugh.  At 16, somewhat of a little prude, or else lacking  a sense of humor.
     She was not one to repeat any  jokes, of course, until one day she told Ma a joke, and couldn't keep herself from laughing during her narration of the tale. I wasn't present during the recitation of the story, but Ma came to me later, saying, "Dorothy told me this story which she found so funny that she could hardly talk during the telling of it, but I don't get it. I didn't want to tell her, but  I don't see anything very funny about it.   Here's the story.  what do you make of it?"
          A rabbit and a turtle were friends all their lives,sharing everything together, with a sympathetic appreciation and understanding of each other, and with similar views on life in general.  But, inevitably, they grew up and older, and apart, and out of touch with each other.  As it happened, years later, they met by chance and reviewed their accomplishments in life.  Turtle had become a successful entrepreneur and was now living in an impressive mansion on a hill, while Rabbit was the owner of a fertilizer business, doing okay, but living a much more humble life.  They re-established their friendship, and Turtle even placed an order with Rabbit to have some fertilizer delivered to the grounds of his home.  Rabbit was looking forward to visiting his old friend again, so on the day of the fertilizer delivery, he rang the bell of the mansion at the appointed time, in eager anticipation of the grand tour of Turtle's fine home.  But instead a butler answered the door, and told Rabbit, in clipped tones, that "Mr. Tur-TELL is down by the well. What can I do for you?"  Rabbit, poor as he may have been, but still proud, responded, "Just tell Mr. Tur-TELL when he's back from the well  that Mr. Rab-BIT is here with the shit."