His name was Onestone. This was his Indian name given
to him because he had only one testicle. After years
and years of this torment, Onestone 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 girl named Blue Bird forgot
and said, "Good morning, Onestone."

He jumped up, grabbed her and took her deep into the
forest and there he made love to her all day, he made
love to her all night, he made love to her all the
next day, until Blue Bird died from exhaustion. The
word got around that Onestone meant business. Years
went by until a woman named Yellow Bird returned to
the village after many years away.

Yellow Bird, who was Blue Bird's cousin, was overjoyed
when she saw Onestone and hugged him and said, "Good
to see you, Onestone." Onestone grabbed her and took
her deep into the forest where 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 the story?





You can't kill two Birds with Onestone!

...or Yellow Birds are tougher than Blue ones

Or was it about cars ?