A: in this case--you would refer to the unfortunate soul as "bad luck billy"!!!
Q: what would someone like you end up with if, say, for the sake of argument (or more accurately--for the sake of this particular joke), that you were a scientist working in the field of experimental bio-engineering, and you made an erstwhile effort to genetically cross JFK with KFC?
A: all of our best data indicates unequivocally that you would get john fitzgerald chicken.
a mountaineer who just returned from scaling mount kilamanjaro walks into a bar and asks for a free drink. the bartender, sensing an ominous chill in the air says, "well sir, i can't give you a free drink, but i can give you five jokes in five seconds." "shoot" replied the crest fallen mountain man. it was at this time in the joke that the admittedly jumpy barkeep pulled out his pistol and beat the mountaineer to death in five easy blows.
it seems there was this elephant who decided to get a part time job at a bakery* to save u to buy a toilet. when he showed up to the interview the manager asked the elephant what qualifications he had to work a part time job. as the elephant passionately laid out his extensive retail and patisserie experience, the manager interrupted him curtly exclaiming, "wait--if you buy a toilet, and flush your business--what will the poor dung beetles eat?" just then the elephant straightened his tie and tossed this beauty of a zinger orally into the ether: "they shall eat your finest croissants," the elephant intoned. "and doubtless that they shan't taste the diff."
*you should know that this particular bakery is known for the unusual poor quality of its croissants.
the pope, a bear, a rabbi, a pirate, a diplomat, a midget, a woman in a coma, a pelican and your mom were all relaxing on an eames chair after a furious fortnight of group hate sex when there was a sound at the door. "knock-knock" when the sound emanating from the door.
simultaneously, and without missing a beat, an answer broke like a desperate yowl from the throats of the orgiers: "who's there?"
like a shot from the butt gun of a pre-radicalized 1920's anarchist, came a response from beyond the door. "banana."
faster than a duck could rape a lizard in the mouth, our motley crew of freakazoids, safely ensconced in the luxury of their designer seatery, shook their heads and bleated as a unit, "orange you glad we've already heard this joke and so shan't be participating (unless of course you are offering substantial financial remuneration)." there was no reply from the other side of the door, save this. one absolute rascal of a fart.