Chuck Norris Didn't Write This Post, He Thought It and Said 'Publish'

"Daddy," he said. "Did you know that Chuck Norris can blow bubbles with beef jerky?"

"I figured as much."

"How does he do that?" he asked.

"He chews it for a little while first," I replied.

"What is beef jerky?"

"It's like leather with some seasonings on it."

"Like shoes?"

"Pretty much."

"Can I blow bubbles with a shoe?"

"Are you going to chew it first?"

"No."

"Well," I said, "guess you're out of luck."

"Does he really decide what time it is?" he continued.

"Who?"

"Chuck Norris.  Does Chuck Norris decide what time it is?"

"Does anybody really know what time it is?" I countered. "Does anybody really care?"

"Well, I was..."

"If so I can't imagine why. We've all got enough time to cry."

"Chuck Norris doesn't cry."

"That's because he doesn't listen to Chicago."

"Didn't you go to Chicago? You brought me back some popcorn in a paint can..."

"Chicago listens to Chuck Norris. And he makes onions cry."

"Oh."

"Exactly," I said.

"But does Chuck Norris really decide what time it is?"

"Time is a man-made concept," I answered.

"Isn't Chuck Norris a man?"

"Ha," I said, "if only. He just walks among us."

"Is Father Time a man?"

"Father Time is a cruel jokester."

"Tell me one of his jokes," he pleaded.

"You're almost seven." I said.

"That's not funny," he mumbled as he thought it over.

"Exactly," I said.

"Did Chuck Norris really beat the sun in a staring contest?"

"That one," I responded, "is true."

"We're not supposed to look at the sun."

"You're right," I said, "which means you are smarter than Chuck Norris."

"But I don't know how to roundhouse."

"Son, life is more than kicks to the head."

"Oh," he said. "That's good to know."

And then he was gone. Most likely off to kick his brother.